


You Look a Lot Like My Next Boyfriend

by Lelantus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A ridiculous amount of tropes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content (Chap. 6 and onwards), Friends with Benefits (kind of?), M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Secret Relationship, Slow Build?, oblivious everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 91,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelantus/pseuds/Lelantus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Pepper, today I met my arch nemesis.”</em><br/><em>“Again? Really? Is this another Justin Hammer situation?”</em><br/>---<br/><em>“I don’t hate him, Buck. He’s just some rich kid that’s being forced to do charity work by his dad. It just pisses me off that he doesn’t actually care. You know how much stuff like this means to me.”</em><br/>---<br/>Or: A Steve/Tony College AU. Tony attempts to “reform” his public image by doing charity work. Steve volunteers at said charity. They meet and kind of hate each other. Then, somehow, they end up friends. And one day Tony realizes he might be a little bit in love with Steve, which wouldn’t be that bad if Steve weren’t pretty much straight. Next comes a bet, a kiss, a minor sexuality crisis, a secret relationship, and a whole lot of boys being stupidly repressed about their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’ve always loved College AUs, so here is my attempt at one for Steve and Tony. You’ll really have to forgive me because this fic is extremely self-indulgent and contains a lot of my favorite clichés.
> 
> If needed, you can always get in touch with me at Lelantusfics@gmail.com or come say hi on tumblr (newly acquired and I'm still working out the kinks) [lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com).

**Beginning of the Fall Semester, 2015. Tuesday. Cambridge, MA.**

Tony got out of the car and immediately regretted it. There were children _everywhere._ Shrieks filled the air as the children ran around, chasing each other in what appeared to be some sort of elaborate game with minimal rules. They were loud, surprisingly fast for humans that were about three feet tall, and Tony thought that they all looked vaguely… sticky. Tony Stark was good at a lot of things (like engineering, excelling in school without really trying, and being the life of a party), but he was definitely not good at children.

A heavy weight crashing into his legs and jerked Tony out of his reverie. Tony looked down and realized with a sort of vague panic that one of the children had actually run straight into him. Said child was now blinking up at Tony with very wide eyes. Oh shit. It wasn’t going to cry, was it?

“Are you playing?” asked the boy - because closer inspection revealed that the child in question was in fact male.

“Um, no?” Tony responded. Because “no” pretty much summed up all of his feelings about his current situation.

The boy seemed to consider this before smiling sweetly up at Tony. “Well, now you are!” he yelled and to Tony’s abject horror, slapped Tony’s leg with his hands, both of which were inexplicably covered in mud, before throwing his head back, cackling (like a clichéd supervillain), and running away as fast as his chubby little legs would take him.

Tony gaped and looked down at his formerly pristine pants, which were now decorated with tiny muddy hand prints. Tony knew he shouldn’t have worn a suit to this. Trying to make a good first impression was not worth the sacrifice of his lucky suit (literally “lucky” because Tony had a habit of getting lucky whenever he wore it). Clearly, these children were uncivilized monsters.

Tony couldn’t be expected to work under these conditions, it would be inhumane. He reached down and tried to wipe away some of the mud, but only succeeded in spreading it across more of his pants. _Well fuck._ Okay, Tony officially had had enough. Surely Howard would be able to think up some other appropriate punishment for Tony. _Anything_ had to be better than this hell.

\-------

**Tony recalls what happened earlier that week.**

Tony sat slumped in a chair in front of his father’s desk, head pounding. Later, when he thought back to this meeting, Tony would blame most of what happened on the fact that he had shown up hungover, brain not fully functioning. But at the moment, Tony sat in front of an extremely unimpressed Howard Stark and his first and only priority was finishing this conversation as quickly as possible so he could go back to his apartment and most importantly, go the fuck back to sleep.

Tony hadn’t even known that his father was in town - at Stark Industries’ Boston branch - until the call from his father’s secretary had dragged him out of bed about an hour ago. Apparently, Tony had been expected to report to SI at his “earliest convenience” which was actually Howard Stark-code for “right fucking now.” So even though Tony hadn’t showered (and probably still smelled like smoke, sweat, alcohol and clubbing), had only gone to bed a few hours ago, and was honestly, probably still been a little drunk from his night out, he had promptly jumped in a cab and hightailed it over to SI. Howard had taken one look at him and his mouth had twisted into a displeased frown. And then silence had descended.

So done with said disappointed silence, Tony sighed and asked, “So not that this isn’t fun dad, but is there any specific reason you needed to see me at this excessively early hour?”

“It’s 10 am,” Howard pointed out.

“Like I said, unreasonably early,” Tony replied, enjoying the way Howard’s jaw clenched.

“I’ve come to discuss your recent public… behavior.” Of course. Tony should have known that the only thing that would prompt an unexpected cross-country trip from Howard would be concern about Tony’s - and consequently Stark Industries’ - image.

When Tony remained silent, Howard continued. “The partying, the drinking, your-” Howard paused, an expression of distaste flickering across his face before continuing, “-many, many conquests, and the articles published. It reflects badly on you and on the company. I simply won’t allow it to go on any longer.” Howard glared at Tony, “And I won’t even begin to mention the pictures.”

“Dad, I’m 18,” Tony protested. He was young, rich, famous, and attractive. Tony was practically _required_ to be a partying playboy. Hell, that’s what most of his friends and acquaintances wanted out of him - for Tony to show them a good time. And plus, partying and drinking and fucking around was - easier. Easier than what? Tony didn’t exactly know. Easier, maybe, than trying to find something or someone worthwhile to spend his time on. Easier than caring about anything besides feeling good and free in the moment.

Howard gave Tony a cold look, “No, you’re a Stark. And if you refuse to start comporting yourself accordingly - with maturity and class - then there will be consequences. You could be jeopardizing your future with Stark Industries.”

And bravo. Howard finally had Tony’s attention. Because what Howard actually meant but was too “polite” to say was, “If you keep acting this way, I will take away Stark Industries from you.” And honestly, Stark Industries was the one thing Tony really, genuinely, cared about - even if he couldn’t admit it to himself (or anyone else) half of the time. It was the one thing that he would beg, lie, cheat, and steal in order to keep.

“Okay, fine, fine. I’ll cut down on all of it. I’ll be - discreet,” Tony promised, a little desperately, panic beginning to curl in the pit of his stomach.

“That’s not good enough.”

Howard’s answer made his blood run cold. “Then what? What do I need to do?” Tony demanded. _What do I need to do to prove to you that I’m serious?_ \- the unspoken question lingered between them.

“Well, I think a good place to start would be showing me - and the world - that you care about something other than carousing your way through your final year at MIT. I think some well-publicized charity work would be just the thing. In fact, I was just made aware of a local organization that could use some new volunteers.”

And Tony, because he was hungover, because he was freaking out over losing SI, and most importantly, because he was an _idiot,_ immediately agreed - without bothering to check what the organization did first. Because really, how hard could volunteering be? Tony was a legitimate genius, he could 100% handle anything Howard threw at him.

\-------

**And now, back to the present.**

Okay, Tony definitely couldn’t handle this. His first five minutes at “Helping Hands Aftercare” were not going well.

Helping Hands, obviously, being the organization that Tony was supposed to “volunteer” with. What Helping Hands did was provide free after-school supervision for kids from low-income families - families with parents that worked full time and couldn’t afford to come home early or pay someone else to look after their children when they got out of school at 2pm. The teachers, counselors, or whatever you wanted to call them (essentially glorified babysitters) that Helping Hands employed to look after the kids were all unpaid volunteers, mostly from local colleges which Boston definitely had a wealth of. And now, on Howard’s insistence, Tony was one of those unpaid volunteers.

Tony thought that it was a great organization. Really, he did. And he would have no problem contributing to it in a less… hands-on manner. Surely Howard would let Tony donate some money to Helping Hands (as an apology for backing out of the whole “volunteering” thing) and then maybe Tony could find a less terrifying place at which to reform his public image. Because clearly, these children were demons and Tony had no experience with childcare (unless looking after Dum-E and U counted?) and if what they had done to his suit pants was any indication, these kids would rip him to shreds given the chance. Tony would bet anything that they could smell weakness.

But just as Tony was contemplating the best way to escape from this child-filled hellhole, he saw him. _Him._ Also known as the probably the most attractive person that Tony had ever seen in real life and Tony occasionally hung out with celebrities. He had perfect blond hair, perfect blue eyes, perfect bone structure, and a _perfect_ blinding smile. His criminally tight t-shirt (and seriously, was that an appropriate shirt to be wearing around children?) highlighted the perfect muscles of his arms and chest. Quite simply, he was perfectly gorgeous and Tony wanted him naked and under him, over him, or inside him - he really wasn’t picky. And sure, Tony was attracted to a lot of people - he had decently low standards - but not like this, never before like this.

And said specimen of human perfection was currently smiling and making his way towards Tony, valiantly fighting through the hordes of screaming children. Tony put on his own best charming smile and waited. Eventually, the new star of all of Tony’s fantasies made it through to Tony and extended his hand for a shake, “Hi! I’m Steve Rogers, you must be the new volunteer.”

Tony shook Steve’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Steve.” And it really, really was.

“Likewise, I’m sure. Um, what’s your name?”

“You don’t know?” Tony asked, amused.

Steve looked charmingly confused, “No? They didn’t tell me who my new partner would be, just that they would be starting today.”

Steve was absolutely precious. “I mean, you don’t recognize me?” Tony asked.

“Should I?” Steve replied, his brow furrowed and eyes intent on Tony’s face as if hoping a more thorough assessment would give him the answers he was looking for.

“I’m Tony Stark,” Tony said and waited, expecting some reaction to at least his name if not his face. But Steve just stood there, blinking at Tony. And it’s not that Tony was conceited (well, maybe a little and it was mostly justified), but this basically never happened. Who didn’t know who Tony Stark was?

“Okay?” Steve said slowly, looking at Tony like he (and not Steve) was the crazy one here.

Oh my god. This was definitely uncharted territory for Tony. Everyone that he had ever wanted to sleep with had known exactly who he was. Hell, being Tony Stark was usually half of his appeal in the first place. “Wow. Okay, that’s fine. You have no idea who I am. That’s totally normal and I’m definitely not questioning how much you read the newspaper,” Tony babbled, completely thrown by this turn of events.

“I’m sorry, I guess?” Steve said rather flatly, frowning at Tony. Which no, not good. Frowning did not bode well for Tony’s chances of getting Steve into his bed. And Tony needed to get Steve into his bed. Okay, Tony could turn this around. He definitely had tons of charm that was separate from his whole “Tony Stark” persona.

“No worries, feel free to google me when you get a chance. Just make sure that safe search is on,” Tony joked, giving Steve his best smile. Steve just crossed his arms and frowned harder and Tony was beginning to get seriously worried that Steve’s face was going to get stuck like that.

“Alright. You know what, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. Let’s start over? Hi Steve Rogers, I’m Tony Stark - billionaire, genius, playboy. And apparently I’m now attempting to tack ‘philanthropist’ onto the end of that,” Tony grinned, gesturing around at the flock of children before sticking out his hand for another handshake.

Steve dropped his gaze down to Tony’s outstretched hand but didn’t extend his own (rude). Damn it. Why was Steve stubbornly refusing to be charmed? “Billionaire?” Steve asked, evidently choosing that tidbit of Tony’s rambling to latch on to, “And you’re here to volunteer?”

“Are you saying that because I’m rich I can’t want to use my time to help people?” Tony replied, officially offended on behalf of all wealthy people everywhere.

“Do you?” Steve challenged, eyebrows raised and arms crossed defensively.

“Do I what?” Tony asked, somewhat distracted by the way the muscles in Steve’s arms bulged when he crossed his arms like that. Was it possible to simultaneously want to punch and kiss someone?

“Do you want to ‘use your time to help people?’” Apparently reading Tony’s confused expression correctly, Steve rolled his eyes before elaborating, “Do you actually want to be here?”

“Yes, obviously, I want to be here,” Tony lied, quite convincingly, he thought. Unfortunately, right at that moment, one of the demon children happened to run just a little too close to Tony and he couldn’t quite stop himself from flinching. Well, shit.

Sure enough, Steve narrowed his eyes and asked accusingly, “Why are you really here?” And seriously? Did you have to get through the Spanish Inquisition to volunteer at this place?

Then, because he honestly didn’t think it could make things anything worse, Tony told the truth, “Okay, look, my dad wants me to do some charity work to improve my ‘image.’ But I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t know if I’m really cut out for this whole, ‘working with kids’ thing.”

Steve’s expression became even stonier throughout Tony’s explanation and Tony really thought he was about to be yelled at before Steve’s face went blank and he nodded, “You know, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Excuse me?” Tony responded, surprised.

“Look, Tony, maybe it would be for the best if you found a different cause on which to spend your very valuable time,” Steve said. And Tony could practically see the sarcasm dripping from the words “very valuable time.” Wow. Steve might look like an angel, but he was kind of a huge asshole. Which really should have made Tony want to sleep with him less. It didn’t. And clearly Tony had been so very wrong thinking that telling the truth wouldn’t make things worse. Well, lesson learned. When in doubt: always lie.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Tony challenged once more.

“These kids need good role models. And they need someone who’s actually going to be around long enough to get to know them, to care about them,” Steve said, all righteous anger and condemnation. And Tony really didn’t need this. He was a good person. Relatively. Well, he hadn’t committed a felony in like a year (and his last one had been really small, so suck it Howard). Whatever. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that it had taken Steve about ten seconds to simply decide that Tony wasn’t worth his time or effort. And that kind of sucked.

“And you don’t think I’m capable of being a good role model?” Tony asked with a wry smile. Because when in doubt, use sarcastic self-deprecation and humor as a self-defense mechanism.

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, “You? A good role model? Tell me again why exactly I would need to have safe search on if I googled you?” When Tony failed to respond immediately, Steve continued, “Alright then. Well, if that’s all, maybe you should get going. Thanks for your interest in Helping Hands Mr. Stark and I’m sorry it didn’t work out-”

Tony held out a hand and cut Steve off, “Hold on a second, cupcake.” Much to Tony’s delight, Steve scowled even harder at nickname. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I think I’ve changed my mind - I’m going to stick around after all,” Tony continued, smiling rather gleefully at Steve’s horrified expression. “You know,” Tony mused when Steve remained stoically silent, apparently still processing his fate. “There was a moment there - right before the insults, I think - where you definitely could have gotten rid of me easily and been left with a nice large check in my place. But now, you’re stuck with me,” Tony concluded, feeling extremely self-satisfied. Because there was no way he was giving Steve the satisfaction of leaving - because that was obviously exactly what Steve wanted, Tony gone.

And just to set the record straight, Tony definitely didn’t want to fuck Steve anymore. Actually, that was mostly a lie. Tony no longer had the idiotic urge to do something stupid like kiss Steve, or ask him out on a romantic dinner date and hold his hand. But Steve was gorgeous and infuriating and Tony would definitely still fuck him, if only because he thought it might bring Steve down a peg or two. But if Tony couldn’t do that (and Tony was self-aware enough to realize that Steve would probably only sleep with him if hell froze over), he could at least enjoy making Steve’s life miserable. And Tony would truly, honestly, _sincerely_ enjoy making Steve’s life miserable.

While Tony silently began to plot out his revenge (because he hadn’t really thought beyond his impulsive decision to give Steve the metaphorical middle finger by refusing to leave), Steve glared at him, his expression thunderous. Then, abruptly, alarmingly, his expression morphed into a smirk, eyes practically sparkling (it was a good look on him).

“Alright Tony. Since you seem pretty confident about staying, let’s just throw you right into the mix of things! I think that for today, you should run the crafts corner.” Steve’s gaze swept over Tony, taking in his impeccable (muddy handprints aside) suit, “What you’re wearing is okay to do finger painting in, right?” And as Steve rambled on about arts and crafts time (oh my god there was going to be glitter) all Tony could do was stare at him in dismay and wonder if it was too late to get out of this with his dignity intact.

\-------

Tony threw open the door to Pepper’s apartment with a flourish and loudly announced, “Pepper, today I met my arch nemesis.”

“Again? Really? Is this another Justin Hammer situation?” Pepper’s voice rang out from somewhere in the apartment. Probably from her bedroom. Knowing Pepper, she was spending her night buried in homework. Pepper was an economics major (with an English literature minor) at Harvard. Tony truly admired Pepper’s dedication to doing her coursework. Tony mostly just showed up for final exams at MIT (occasionally drunk).

“No, you don’t understand. Every other supposed arch nemesis that I’ve had pales in comparison. They were all practice for this one. He’s pure evil wrapped in a beautiful, muscled, blond package.”

As Tony finished ranting, Pepper finally came out into the living room. The moment she laid eyes on Tony she stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening in shock. And then she began to laugh. God. Tony had the worst friends in the entire world. Tony crossed his arms and began tapping his foot, waiting for Pepper to gain control of herself. “Oh my god Tony, what happened to you?” Pepper finally choked out, wiping away tears of mirth from her eyes.

Tony grudgingly conceded that it was a fair question. After all, he was covered in splotches of brightly colored paint and glitter. The glitter in particular was everywhere. On his clothes, on his face, in his hair. It had prompted one of the little girls at the crafts corner to add insult to injury by solemnly declaring that Tony was “prettiest princess” she had ever seen. She had proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes constructing a quite hideous paper crown that Tony had felt obligated to don, glaring as Steve not so subtly took pictures from across the room. Which reminded him, he definitely needed to hack into Steve’s phone - if only to remove anything that could potentially be used as blackmail.

“My arch nemesis happened!” Tony exclaimed.

Pepper shot him an amused look, “Is your arch nemesis a pixie or fairy of some kind?”

“Pepper, this is serious!” Tony whined.

Pepper schooled her face into a solemn expression that was somewhat ruined by her dancing eyes, “Of course it is Tony. Why don’t you tell me all about your new arch nemesis? First of all, do they have a name?”

Tony gasped, “We don’t dignify the enemy by calling them by their name! From this day onwards, my new arch nemesis shall be only known as Lucifer for he is beautiful and cunning and has a horde of demon-children who listen to his every command.”

“Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,” Pepper earnestly quoted.

“This is no time for Harry Potter quotes, Potts!” Tony yelled before collapsing forward onto Pepper’s sofa and burying his face in the cushions. All Tony wanted was some sympathy and the assurance that he was clearly in the right here. Actually, he mostly just wanted this day to be over.

“I think it’s always time for Harry Potter quotes,” Pepper replied cheerfully from somewhere above him.

Tony groaned into sofa before rolling to gaze back up at Pepper who was now perched on the arm of the couch. “So... my first day volunteering was a little rough.”

Pepper sniggered (the absolute _worst_ friends), “I can see that.”

“Lucifer tricked me. He lured me in with his beauty and then made me run the crafts corner. Children are monsters,” Tony pouted up at Pepper.

Pepper continued to grin at him, “Tell me more about this Lucifer. He seems hot. Is he hot?”

“Like burning,” Tony promptly replied. “But he has a stick wedged so far up his ass I have no idea how he manages to sit down comfortably. I mean seriously Pep, the guy is a judgmental asshat of the highest order.”

Pepper mouthed “judgmental asshat” to herself before speaking, “Are you sure he’s that bad? You know that some people can react… less than ideally to your particular brand of charm. Do actually know anything about the guy? Maybe you should consider giving him a second chance.” Ugh, Tony hated it when Pepper used her “voice of reason.” Why couldn’t she just blindly hate everyone Tony wanted her to hate? Traitor.

“Nuh-uh. He cast aspersions on my character and ruined my lucky suit. There’s no going back. Wars have been started over less, Pep. You need to help me plan my counterattack.”

Pepper sighed, “Alright fine, I’ll help. But first get off my couch and go shower - I am not going to let you get glitter all over the apartment - Natasha would kill me.” Tony huffed and rolled off the couch, ready to comply with Pepper’s demand. Pepper’s roommate Natasha was terrifying, mostly because she was double majoring in Computer Science and Russian and Tony was convinced that she secretly worked for the CIA.

As Tony was stepping into the bathroom, Pepper called after him, “And for god’s sake put that suit in a plastic bag and leave it outside the bathroom. I’ll do you a favor and burn it while you’re showering.” Oh god, his beautiful, destroyed suit. Yeah, Steve was definitely going to have to be made to pay for the severe emotional trauma he had caused Tony.

\-------

Steve had promised himself that he wasn’t going to google “Tony Stark.” No. That would be doing exactly what Tony wanted and Steve refused to give into Tony’s taunts. Steve’s resolve lasted about for about 45 minutes after getting home. The moment he was no longer distracted by cooking himself a quick dinner, Steve found his fingers itching for his computer. Hypothetically, if he did google Tony, nobody would have to know, right? Steve lunged for the laptop.

Huh. So Tony was a _Stark_ \- as in Stark Industries. Obviously, Steve had heard of Stark Industries, the extremely successful technology company known primarily for their weapons and defense technologies, but he hadn’t made the connection to Tony until now. And boy, Tony definitely hadn’t been kidding about the “billionaire genius” thing. Steve clicked through a few articles detailing Tony’s precocious work for SI, Stark family history, and their net worth (and wow, that was a lot of zeros), but nothing in the first page of results quite explained why Tony was being forced to volunteer in order to reform his image.

Steve took a deep breath and knowing that he was probably going to regret it, turned off safe search, only to be immediately confronted with pictures of a mostly (like 95%) naked Tony Stark in quite a few compromising positions. And sure, Tony was objectively an attractive guy (who looked even better naked than he did in his tailored suits… which, no, why was Steve noticing that?), but this was way more than he had ever expected to see of Tony. Oh god. Why was he still staring at the pictures?

Steve’s minor internal freak-out was interrupted by the front door opening and Bucky walking into the living room. Steve immediately slammed the laptop closed, feeling himself blush and cursing his fair skin.

Bucky glanced up from his phone and took one look at Steve - with his flushed cheeks, guilty expression, and hastily closed laptop - and grinned, “Not interrupting anything, am I?”

Steve shoved his laptop as far away as possible (nothing incriminating to see here, no siree), “Um, definitely not! How was class?”

“Nice subject change, Rogers. You know, if you need some alone time-” Bucky’s sentence was cut off with a yelp as the cushion that Steve had thrown at him hit him directly in the face. “Fine, fine! We’ll just ignore the probable living room porn-watching - even though that’s definitely a breach in our unspoken roommate agreement. Class was good, I just came back to eat and change before my shift at Shield.” In between taking journalism classes at Boston College and interning for the Boston Globe, Bucky also worked as a bartender at Shield, their favorite neighborhood bar/club. Bucky headed into the kitchen, where he began to rummage around in the fridge. “But how was volunteering? Did Sam’s replacement show up?” he called out, sandwich making materials balanced precariously in his arms.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Steve replied, watching as Bucky began to construct a truly impressively large sandwich. Having to deal with Tony Stark probably wouldn’t have been as bad if Steve hadn’t been mourning the loss of Sam as his volunteering partner. Due to spending the semester abroad, Sam hadn’t been able to continue volunteering at Helping Hands this semester.

“What’s wrong with them?” Bucky asked. “Are they weird? Are they horrible with children? Did they hit on you?” Steve must have made some sort of face because Bucky crowed, “Oh my god, that’s it! They totally hit on you and you probably just stood there awkwardly because somehow you never learned how to actually flirt and I’ve clearly failed you as-”

“He wasn’t flirting with me!” Steve blurted out.

Bucky turned and looked at him gleefully, “He? Really now. Is he cute?”

Steve was so done with this conversation, “Ugh, Buck, you know it’s not like that.”

Bucky winked and chuckled, “Yeah, sure thing Rogers. Now tell me the real reason why you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him,” Steve said carefully, “I just wish that he wasn’t volunteering at Helping Hands.” Because, it was true. He didn’t hate Tony. Sure, Tony was arrogant and self-centered and seemed like the kind of person that never took anything seriously, but Steve didn’t _hate_ him. He merely found Tony… irritating.

Part of him didn’t even understand why his reaction to Tony had been so strong. Steve had met people like Tony before - wealthy, privileged, entitled - and had always refused to let the things they said or did bother him too much. And he had met a lot of people like Tony who were frankly quite worse - ignorant and purposefully hateful, bullies of the first order. In those cases, conversations usually went much smoother when Steve just used his fists. But even they hadn’t managed to get under his skin quite like Tony had - and for some reason, it seemed likely that he would stay there.

Bucky smirked, “Come on Steve, spill. This is a safe space - you can vent to your hearts content! I’m sure as hell not gonna judge.” Which was true. Bucky was always the first to have his back. Steve guessed it pretty much came with the territory when you’d been best friends since grade school - especially since as a kid, Steve had been kind of sickly and scrawny and prone to getting into fights that he definitely couldn’t win.

Bucky proceeded to take a huge bite of his sandwich, gaze fixed on Steve as he chewed, waiting for his answer.

Steve rolled his eyes, “It’s really not that big of a deal. He’s just some rich kid that’s being forced to do charity work by his dad. It just pisses me off that he doesn’t actually care. You know how much stuff like this means to me.”

Bucky smiled fondly at him, “Yeah, you dork, I know.” Then, after taking another bite of sandwich, “Well, he sounds like an asshole. Is he an asshole?”

“I mean yeah, kind of, but that doesn’t mean…” Steve trailed off guiltily.

Bucky, evidently reading Steve’s embarrassment correctly and knowing that Steve was never one to back down from an argument, widened his eyes and gleefully asked, “Oh my god, what did you do?”

Steve winced and looked away from Bucky, “Okay. I _might_ have put him in charge of the crafts corner and brought out the finger paints. And I _might_ have encouraged a few of the kids to be… messier than usual. And I _might_ have also brought out like a pound of glitter for the kids to go nuts with.” Bucky silently arched a brow at him. Steve sighed, “And I _might_ have done all of that because he showed up to volunteering job with small kids wearing a bespoke, designer suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.”

Bucky whooped, “Steve, I didn’t know you had it in you! You’re normally such a sweetheart. Well, either that or you just punch someone in the face. This level of subtle torture is new and I applaud your effort. Did he end up looking ridiculous? I bet he looked ridiculous.”

“Well, let’s just say I didn’t know it was possible for someone covered in neon paint and glitter and wearing a paper crown to look like they were seriously contemplating murder.”

Bucky finished his sandwich and grinned, “Well, maybe that’ll be good enough to keep him from showing up again. And hey! Then you can get a new partner.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve said, listlessly, wondering why the prospect of Tony quitting didn’t make him feel any happier.

“Aw, come on Stevie, turn that frown upside down,” and with a clap to Steve’s shoulder, Bucky sauntered out of the living room and into his bedroom, ostensibly to change clothes. A few minutes later, he re-emerged wearing the Shield bartender uniform: black pants and a black t-shirt.

“Are you finally going to ask out Natasha,” Steve asked as Bucky was opening the door. Natasha was the beautiful redhead who also worked nights bartending and waitressing at Shield. Bucky went on and on to Steve about his deep and all-consuming love for her at least once a week.

Bucky ran a hand through his long hair, “Well, I ask her out every time I see her and she always says no, but who knows? Maybe the 96th time’s the charm! See ya later, kid. Come by the bar if you decide to stop moping.”

Steve waved goodbye to Bucky and the front door slammed closed, leaving Steve alone in the apartment. It was going to be fine. Tony wouldn’t show up at Helping Hands on Thursday. Because honestly, anyone as spoiled as Tony definitely was would refuse to come back after the way Steve had spoken to them and the stunt Steve had pulled. Helping Hands would be better off and Steve would never see Tony Stark again. With a sigh, Steve grabbed his textbook, ready to sink into his American History reading, and valiantly tried to ignore the small part of him that hoped Tony would prove him wrong and be there on Thursday.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Chapter Warning: some minor non-con touching (not between Tony/Steve)??

**Thursday.**

Tony was huddled underneath a picnic table (doing something much more dignified than _hiding_ \- but he couldn’t quite think of a better word to describe the action) when a voice from behind him asked, “Watcha doing?”

Tony startled and narrowly avoided braining himself on the table above him. Turning around, Tony was met with the wide, unblinking eyes of a little girl who was peering interestedly at Tony. Tony recognized her. It was the same girl (Emmy?) that had crowned him a princess on Tuesday - as if Tony was ever going to forget that trauma. “I’m hiding,” Tony whispered and waved his hand forward, silently urging Emmy to join him underneath the table - the longer she stayed where she was, the more likely it would be that his location would be discovered by he-who-must-not-be-named (or more children).

Emmy smiled at him brightly and scrambled off of the bench she had been perched on. “Are you playing hide and seek?” She asked seriously, as if the game were a matter of life and death. Which now that Tony thought about it, might very well be the case. After all, Steve would probably murder him when he caught up with Tony. And if Steve didn’t off him, Tony was sure that the children would be willing to do the job.

“Can you be playing hide and seek if other person doesn’t know they’re supposed to be seeking?” Tony mused.

Emmy cocked her head to the side, apparently giving Tony’s question _serious thought_. “Hiding is always fun,” she eventually concluded and Tony felt the corners of his mouth twitching - wanting to turn up in a smile - and was promptly horrified. Oh god. Was this how it started? You find one kid reluctantly charming and then suddenly you liked them all?

“Good, because you’re stuck here with me now. I can’t risk you running off and telling Steve where I am.” Tony took a brief moment to consider just how unethical it was to keep a child hostage underneath a picnic table before deciding it didn’t matter so long as Steve didn’t find him.

Emmy’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in a little “O.” “Why are we hiding from Mr. Steve?” she whispered.

“Weeelll-” Tony drawled, trying to decide just how much he should reveal to an impressionable young kid.

“I’m good at secrets,” Emmy solemnly promised.

Tony smiled, “Let’s just say that I played a little joke on Steve but he might not think it’s that funny.”

“What kind of joke?” Emmy asked, delighted, and Tony gave her an appraising look. Maybe this was a chance to win himself an ally. Emmy was bright and potentially appropriately bloodthirsty when it came to pranks. Tony also suspected that she might have a lethal set of puppy dog eyes that would get her out of any trouble she might find herself in if she assisted Tony in a scheme or two.

But before Tony could reply, Steve’s voice rang out across the yard in a yell, “Tony!”

Emmy jumped a little and let out a small giggle before clapping a hand over her mouth to suppress any further noise. Tony winked at her and put a finger to his mouth, indicating the continued need for silence and Emmy nodded eagerly, hand still over her mouth. Together, they listened to Steve stomp around the yard.

After a few tense minutes, Steve’s footsteps started to get closer and closer to Tony and Emmy’s hiding place. Emmy gazed at him with wide eyes and Tony watched Steve’s shoes stop right by the picnic table. Suddenly, the edge of the tablecloth covering the table was yanked upwards and Steve’s scowling face appeared underneath the table. Emmy shrieked and Steve jerked, hitting his head on the table.

Emmy promptly scrambled out from underneath the table and bolted, calling out as she ran, “Bye Tony!” Tony looked longingly after her, wishing that he too could get away with running in the opposite direction of Steve.

Steve straightened back up, rubbing the top of his head and still scowling asked, “Are you going to get out from underneath there?”

Tony blinked up at him, “You know, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just say here.”

“Get up, Tony,” Steve snapped.

Tony smirked and proceeded to take his sweet time crawling out from underneath the table. Tony stood up and languidly stretched, raising his arms above his head, and for a moment, he thought he saw Steve’s eyes track the movement, scanning up and down his body as if checking him out - but no, that was clearly ridiculous. Once he had finished stretching, Tony brightly asked, “What’s up, muffin?”

Tony watched with amusement as Steve struggled not to respond to the nickname, clearly storing up his righteous anger to yell at Tony for his teeny, tiny prank. “This is ‘what’s up,’” Steve snarled, taking a moment to rip off a piece of tape that was on his leg before slapping it on Tony’s chest.

Tony peered down and saw a long piece of duct tape with words “Property of Stark Industries,” scrawled on it in bold letters. Looking back up at Steve, Tony grinned, “Thanks for this sugar, but I think you’re the only one that has trouble remembering I’m a Stark.”

Steve scrunched up his nose in annoyance (it actually looked kind of cute and Tony cursed himself for noticing), “Don’t play dumb, Tony. It doesn’t suit you. You and I both know exactly where I found that and who put it there.”

And yes, obviously Tony knew exactly where the duct tape had been - right over Steve’s nicely toned ass - because he had been the one to risk life and limb to put it there. Tony assumed that Steve had also found the other pieces of tape - all with “Property of Stark Industries” written on them - that Tony had managed to stick all over his body. One on the back of Steve’s shirt, one on Steve’s left leg, and even one on the back of Steve’s shoe. Tony had been particularly proud of that one. Additionally, Tony might have stolen Steve’s phone, broken in and replaced his background - and all the icons in his contacts - with pictures of the SI logo before stealthily returning it. But rather than admit guilt, Tony just assumed his most innocent expression and batted his eyes guilelessly at Steve.

Steve growled. He actually _growled_. Tony didn’t know if he should be frightened or amused (or a little aroused? And okay, he definitely needed to stop thinking about his arch nemesis in _that way_ , ASAP). “Why did you come back here if you weren’t planning on taking this seriously?” Steve ground out in between clenched teeth.

“I’m avenging a fallen comrade,” Tony replied.

Steve’s brow wrinkled in confusion before he stared at Tony dumfounded. “This is about the suit?” he practically yelled.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “No, this is about you being an asshole - what you did to my suit just confirmed my suspicions about your asshole-ish nature.”

Steve flushed. “I already apologized for that,” he pointed out. It was true. When Tony had shown up to Helping Hands earlier that afternoon, Steve had given him a surprised look before coming over to apologize for Tony’s ruined suit, suggesting that both of them “move forward” and learn to “work together” in spite of their “differences.” Steve had clearly been shocked that Tony had bothered to show up at all. Oh sweet summer child - like Tony would ever miss a chance for revenge. He was a Stark after all. Steve’s first mistake had been underestimating him. Steve’s second mistake was thinking that Tony was just going to conveniently forgive and forget how much of dick Steve had been to him.

Tony had mostly tuned out Steve’s speech - it was filled with all sorts of bullshit platitudes that Tony had no use for - but at the end of it, he had nodded and smiled. Steve had smiled back, looking relieved, and Tony had felt a bit guilty about refusing to let bygones be bygones. It had taken Tony a few rounds of muttering, “He’s a judgmental asshat. He deserves it,” underneath his breath to get himself back into the proper mind frame for plans of revenge.

“Okay, sure. You apologized and magically made everything better.” When Steve looked confused, Tony rolled his eyes before schooling his expression, laying a hand over his heart, and solemnly declaring, “Steve, I’m sorry for writing ‘Property of Stark Industries’ on your ass… and other places.” Tony waited, and when Steve didn’t say anything, Tony triumphantly explained, “You see, I apologized too, but I bet you still want to throttle me.”

“Well, my apology was sincere!”

“Yeah, sure it was,” Tony scoffed.

Steve had the audacity to look wounded, “It was.”

“Whatever cupcake, save it for someone who cares.” When Steve just continued to basically pout at Tony, Tony felt compelled to get the conversation back to a more comfortable place - Tony would take Steve yelling at him over making him feel vaguely guilty any day. So Tony smiled sharply and asked, “And just who exactly told you about the tape?”

Oh, there it was! Steve was back to looking vaguely murderous, which was admirable considering he was also blushing. “It was one of the kids’ parents. She felt compelled to peel it off my backside herself - unnecessarily slowly, with a lot of… touching.”

Tony laughed so hard that he almost fell over. Tony was pretty sure that baiting Steve had just turned into his new and favorite hobby. And really, Tony was practically performing a public service. Tony was pretty sure that Steve was suffering from a severe lack of whimsy in his life. Maybe with enough exposure to Tony, Steve would finally lighten up and learn how to do something else with his face besides frown disapprovingly at the world.

\-------

**About three very long hours later.**

Steve practically collapsed onto a stool at the mostly empty bar in Shield. Bucky paused in his wiping down of the bar to look at him with mild worry. “I need a shot,” Steve pronounced and Bucky’s eyebrows flew straight up in surprise.

But before Bucky could say anything, Clint plunked down a filled shot glass right in front of Steve and exclaimed gleefully, “I have always wanted to see you take a shot. It’s like seeing my mom or my grandma take one. It’s basically like seeing bigfoot.” It was true, Steve was not a big drinker and he thought that the last time he had done a shot might have been in his freshman year, back when he didn’t know any better. Now, Steve definitely knew better, but he was too exasperated, ticked off, frustrated (take your pick of verb) to care

Steve examined the glass - it was filled with a golden liquid - before deciding he didn’t care what was in it and knocking it back. It burned. Steve spluttered a little, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and regretted every single decision in his life that led him here: doing shots by himself at 7pm on a Thursday.

Clint was staring at him with a wide smile, “That was everything I wanted it to be and more.” Steve glared at him. Clint also worked at Shield when not attending classes at BC. Right now, Clint’s major was Linguistics, but Steve wasn’t sure it would stick. Clint changed majors with alarming frequency, usually just taking whichever classes had managed to catch his fancy that semester.

Bucky pushed a giggling Clint out of the way and leaned over the bar, “You okay there Rogers?”

“If I committed murder, you guys would help me hide the body right?” Steve asked. He was only mostly kidding about the murder - Tony made him _that_ crazy. And to be fair, if he ever actually needed to get rid of a body, he would probably ask Natasha for help first.

Bucky arched a brow at him, “I take it Rich Kid showed up again?” Clint looked at Bucky, confused. Bucky turned to him and filled him in, “Steve’s pissed off because his new volunteering partner at Helping Hands is a wealthy prick.”

Clint looked at Steve and earnestly declared, “Steve, not only would I help you hide the body, I will help you kill him.” And that’s exactly why Steve would be asking Natasha. Clint just had way too much enthusiasm about possible murder.

Buck snorted and shoved Clint away again before turning his speculative gaze back on Steve, “Well, I suppose you being furious is better than you feeling sorry for yourself. Although, the drinking would suggest that there’s still some self-pity happening.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself!” Steve exclaimed, indignant.

Bucky grinned at him, “Sure thing Stevie, you’re acting totally normal and not at all like a crazy person. Rich Kid definitely hasn’t rattled your cage or pushed your buttons more than anyone I’ve seen in years.”

Before Steve could come up with an answer to that, Clint piped up, “If he’s that bad, couldn’t you just get him fired - or whatever they call it when you’re let go from a job you’re doing voluntarily?”

Steve sighed (okay, maybe he was feeling a little sorry for himself - just a little), “They’re not going to fire him - his family is not just wealthy, they’re influential. Helping Hands won’t want to risk pissing them off. And if his family ends up donating money, then at least one good thing will have come out of this mess.”

Three shots later, Steve was feeling a lot more relaxed about everything. It had taken the three additional shots to loosen Steve’s tongue enough that he had finally give into Bucky and Clint’s pestering and told them exactly Tony had done. The shots had been complementary. Steve was beginning to suspect he had been conned - liquored up so he would spill his story. Regardless, Clint had thought Tony’s prank was hilarious and behind his mock-sympathetic expression, Bucky had clearly been dying to laugh as well. Steve probably would have been angrier about their reactions if he had been a little less tipsy. But as it was, he was feeling pretty okay with life.

“You know,” Steve mused, “I can’t figure out if I want to punch him or if I just want to see him smile for real.” Oh shit, had he said that out loud? That was not supposed to be an out loud kind of thought. It was just that Steve suspected that Tony probably had a nice smile when he wasn’t smirking. Like the kind of smile he would give to his friends. Tony had a nice mouth. And wow. It had been quite a while since Steve had been this drunk. Because really brain? Steve was 99% sure that he didn’t want to be Tony’s friend, no matter how nicely shaped his lips were. Tony was conceited and arrogant and careless and... other bad things that Steve would definitely remember as soon as he was sober again.

Bucky looked at him as if he were worried that Steve had fallen and hit his head (Steve was pretty sure that he hadn’t, but maybe he wouldn’t remember if he had?), “What was that now?”

Steve blinked back at Bucky and before he could come up with a response that might make sense, Clint jumped in, “You know Steve, you’re looking at this the wrong way. Don’t get mad, get even!”

\-------

**Next Thursday. Steve really needs another drink.**

One week later, Steve had survived two more days of volunteering with Tony. Survived being the operative word because dealing with Tony Stark honestly gave Steve more of a headache than corralling the 30-odd unruly kids at Helping Hands ever had. Come to think of it, Tony bore a striking resemblance to said unruly kids - preferring to act like a child rather than the competent child-care volunteer he was _supposed_ to be. But instead of going back to Shield to drown his sorrows in front of a supremely unsympathetic audience (re: Bucky), Steve was hoping to get rid of his frustration the old fashioned way: through exercise. Unfortunately, even though he was a couple of miles into his run, he couldn’t stop thinking about Tony fucking Stark. It was starting to be a problem.

Steve hadn’t initially taken Clint’s advice to “get even.” He had figured that the mature, adult thing to do (because no matter what Bucky said, Steve was definitely a mature adult) would be to just ignore Tony’s antics.

So, yeah. Steve had tried to do the right thing. It just hadn’t gone terribly well.

Steve maintained it wasn’t his fault.

Tony was infuriating. Why couldn’t he just _listen_ to Steve? Why couldn’t he just show up to Helping Hands and do what he was supposed to do, quietly and unobtrusively? (Unfortunately, Steve suspected that Tony didn’t have a single quiet and unobtrusive bone in his body) And for god’s sake, why did Tony insist on wedging himself so far into Steve’s thoughts that he could barely focus on anything else? Clearly, someone had designed Tony Stark for the express purpose of driving Steve insane. So really, Steve couldn’t be blamed for snapping.

Because on Tuesday, Tony had smuggled in candy and had been secretly giving out pieces to the kids with the express purpose of turning them into hyperactive balls of energy and making Steve deal with the ensuing chaos while Tony lounged on one of the chairs outside “working on his tan.” Steve had only figured out what was going after he had caught Tony sneaking a giant bag of M&Ms to six-year-old Carter behind the building in what looked like the setup for a clichéd drug deal.

And today, Tony had gotten “poetic justice” for his suit when one of Steve’s shirts fell victim to a mysterious cutting incident during crafts corner. To make a long, ridiculous, story short, Steve’s favorite t-shirt had been cut straight up the front by one of the kids, prompting a wolf-whistled from across the room from Tony and a blush from Steve. The kid responsible, Emmy, had looked at him with wide eyes and earnestly proclaimed how “sorry” she was… right before turning around to give thumbs up to Tony when she thought Steve wasn’t looking. So Tony had somehow gained minions (Steve suspected bribery had been instrumental) and Steve had been forced to walk around for the rest of the day with a shirt that was held together with staples.

Tony also took delight in changing Steve’s ring and text message tones to increasingly ridiculous (e.g. the Pokémon theme song) or inappropriate (e.g. anything by Nicki Minaj) songs that invariably made all the children giggle. And _somehow_ , Steve’s phone kept being switched from silent to sound.

And throughout it all, Tony had never once called Steve by his name, instead referring to him by a series of absurd, mostly dessert-related nicknames that half of the time were enough to make Steve blush. Steve mostly just wanted him to stop before the kids noticed and all started calling Steve some variation of “honeybuns” as well.

But the worst part of the whole thing was that kids all _adored_ Tony. Because of course they did. Because of course Tony had somehow managed to win their affection, attention, and respect without actually doing any of the work he was supposed to. Apparently everything just came easily to Tony Stark - including being good with kids.

So Steve had snapped just a little and retaliated. Appallingly, he had _sunk to Tony’s level._ Again, Steve _really_ thought that he wasn’t to blame here. Because did Tony honestly expect Steve to just endlessly put up with his - for lack of a better word - shenanigans?

And so, with Bucky and Clint’s brainstorming assistance, Steve had shamelessly stolen an idea from “How I Met Your Mother.” At the end of their time volunteering today, Steve had adopted his most guileless expression and offered Tony a water bottle. And after watching Tony take a sip, Steve had taken out his phone and texted Tony the photos of where that water bottle had been (for example, licked by a dog) and where the water inside had come from (the toilet).

Obviously, the water bottle that Steve had actually given Tony was completely untouched and sanitary (Steve didn’t really want to _kill_ Tony and bacteria were a real thing) - but Tony didn’t know that.

So Steve had watched with satisfaction as Tony had fished his phone out of his pocket and opened the text from Steve. Tony’s eyes had gone comically wide and he had spit out the sip of water he had just taken, his face scrunched up with disgust.

But Steve’s retaliatory prank hadn’t had quite the intended effect. Because after Tony had finished sputtering, spitting, and cursing, he had looked up at Steve and grinned, his eyes shining with something like… respect? Which definitely hadn’t been the reaction that Steve was expecting. And Steve had had to stop himself from smiling back at Tony. Because maybe there was a part of Steve (a very, _very_ small part) that found engaging with Tony exhilarating.

Did Steve like Tony? No. But against his will and better judgement, Steve reluctantly found him fascinating. Tony Stark was by and far the most interesting thing that had happened to Steve’s staid, well-ordered life in a good, long while.

\-------

**Saturday morning. Early. Too early, if you ask Tony.**

Tony stumbled into his favorite coffee shop - Project R Coffee - at the ungodly hour of 7:00am. Tony had never been here this early on a weekend. Actually, Tony couldn’t remember the last Saturday where he had woken up before noon. Tony usually spent Saturday mornings recovering from Friday nights (which were usually spent at a club or a party, drunk and hooking up with someone/various someone's). But because of Howard’s most recent threats, Tony had been trying to keep a low profile.

So instead of going out and having fun like a normal teenager, Tony had spent last night in his lab, working on his various projects - both for Stark Industries and his electrical engineering capstone. He was really making progress on his schematics and calculations for an alternative, green energy source. With any luck, Tony would have a working prototype by the end of the semester.

And really, Tony didn’t need to get his rocks off drinking or partying - not when tormenting and riling up Steve provided him with endless entertainment and joy. And _no_ , Tony sternly told the voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Pepper, _he definitely was not obsessed with Steve._ Tony just… happened to think about him a lot. Scratch that, Tony thought about Steve a perfectly normal amount considering they were arch enemies. Whatever. That wasn’t important. What was important was that after a summer spent largely dicking around (AKA vacationing at various exotic locations), Tony had almost forgotten how much he loved spending time in his lab. But in practically no time at all, Tony had been completely immersed in his work.

Creating, working to build something new and extraordinary, was what Tony really lived for. It was something that he could never let Howard take away from him. It was everything that was good about him and it was the only thing that kept Tony from hating himself most days. Tony couldn’t believe that he had gone without it for so long. But no longer. Tony was back in the saddle, and he was living and breathing engineering.

Around 3am, Tony had been hit by a wave of inspiration that had pushed all thoughts of sleep out of Tony’s mind. Whatever. Sleep was for people less brilliant than Tony. Tony didn’t need sleep. What Tony needed was coffee. And not the crappy coffee he could make for himself in his lab. Tony needed the good stuff and Tony needed something with at least four shots of espresso in it.

So Tony was at Project R Coffee, first thing on a Saturday, when all normal people were still asleep, ready to do absolutely anything necessary to get his hands on caffeine. Tony was currently the only person in the coffee shop - he couldn’t even see a barista behind the counter. Tony slumped against the counter, wondering just how much trouble he would get in if he jumped over the counter and started making his own coffee.

“Hello?” Tony called out.

“Hello!” Tony heard the muffled voice call out from somewhere in the back room. “I’ll be right with you!” Oh god, whoever was back there sounded peppy. Tony didn’t know if he could deal with pep right now. It was too early for pep. He might just murder the barista if they tried to make small talk instead of immediately giving him his coffee.

After a minute, the door to the back room swung open and someone that looked remarkably like Steve walked through the door. “Hello! Welcome to Project R Coffee, how can I…” The Steve-hallucination trailed off, staring at Tony with wide eyes.

Tony straightened up, “Oh my god. It’s finally happened. I’m so deep into caffeine withdrawal that I’ve started hallucinating.”

The Steve-hallucination continued to stand still, mouth open in shock. “Tony, what are you doing here?” It finally asked.

“Oh no,” Tony muttered to himself, “Now I’m having auditory hallucinations too. This can’t be good.”

The Steve-hallucination frowned, looking remarkably similar to real-Steve. “You’re not hallucinating Tony. Why would you think that?”

“Then I must be dreaming,” Tony mused, “Or more accurately, having a horrific nightmare. If this were a good dream, at least one of us would be much more naked.” It was clearly the only logical solution. Because surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to make him deal with his arch nemesis this early on a Saturday. Dream-Steve blushed and rolled his eyes before reaching across the counter to pinch Tony hard on the arm. “Ow!” Tony exclaimed, rubbing his arm and glaring at dream-Steve, “What was that for?”

“That was me attempting to convince you that you’re not actually dreaming!”

With dawning horror, Tony asked, “Steve?” Oh god. Tony couldn’t believe that it was actually Steve standing in front of him. Tony hadn’t slept in over 24 hours and was wearing a white tank top and sweatpants that were stained with oil and grease and god knows what else. Tony’s hair was a mess from constantly running his hands through it and it had been a while since his last shower. In short, Tony was not at his best this morning and here was fucking Steve Rogers - _Lucifer_ \- looking as bright and fresh as a goddamn daisy. Fuck everything. Twice.

Steve looked skyward as if asking for patience, “Yeah Tony, it’s me.”

“Why are you here?” Tony demanded. “Are you stalking me?” It seemed terrifyingly plausible. Tony wouldn’t put it past Steve, he was tricky like that.

“I work here!” Steve exclaimed indignantly. Whoops. Tony had momentarily forgotten that little fact. He desperately needed caffeine if this conversation was going to continue. “If anything, I should be asking you if you’re stalking me!” Steve continued.

“Coffee!” Tony blurted out, “I need coffee!” Eyes on the prize Stark.

Steve frowned at him, “Fine. What can I get you?”

“A latte with four shots,” Tony said, rather desperately.

Steve looked like he was about to disapprove but Tony shot him his best puppy dog eyes and Steve sighed, turning around to start making Tony’s coffee. Success! Tony watched Steve make his drink carefully, understandably wary considering what had happened the last time he had accepted a beverage from his arch nemesis. Steve was not to be trusted when it came to providing Tony with drinks. And speaking of Thursday’s water bottle incident, Tony was still grudgingly impressed that Steve had had the balls - and let’s face it, the imagination - to prank him back.

“So, are you new here?” Tony asked, leaning against the counter. Steve turned and gave him an exasperated look. “What!” Tony exclaimed, “I love this place. I come here a lot and I’ve never seen you working here before.”

“I’ve worked here for a few years, but I usually work mornings since I have class in the afternoons.”

“That would explain it. I am not so much a morning person.”

“Really now, I never would have guessed,” Steve deadpanned, giving Tony’s disheveled appearance a once over, and Tony had to fight the urge to snicker. Inconveniently, Tony seemed to be discovering that Steve did indeed have a sense of humor, if you actually took the time to listen for it. It was making it harder for Tony to truly devote his entire being to hating Steve.

Tony grinned and cheerfully made a rude gesture at Steve. Steve snorted and finished making Tony’s coffee, sliding it across the counter to Tony. Tony eagerly grabbed it and took a sip. “What are you doing here this early if you hate mornings?” Steve asked, but Tony didn’t hear him. Because he had just taken a sip of the best coffee that he had ever had in his life. And Tony had had _a lot_ of coffee in his life.

Tony closed his eyes and let out a low, probably indecent moan, reveling in the taste. Tony thought that this might just be the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth. But Tony’s coffee-induced bliss was cut brutally short the moment he remembered just who had made this ambrosia. His eyes popped open. “What did you do to this coffee?” Tony asked, accusingly.

“What?” Steve replied, startled. He was staring at Tony, a faint flush high on his cheeks.

“What did you put in it to make it taste this good? There are drugs in here, aren’t there?”

Steve’s confusion melted into a confident smile, “It’s good, isn’t it?” And Tony’s hatred for Steve flared anew. Because it stood to reason that the world’s most perfect cup of coffee would have to be brewed by the devil himself (AKA Steve).

“Alright buttercup, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s just a cup of coffee,” Tony lied, working to keep his face blank. It did nothing to wipe the smug expression off of Steve’s stupidly perfect face.

“It’s a _great_ cup of coffee. Don’t lie Stark, you want marry that coffee. I can see it your eyes.” And dammit, Steve was 100% right. Tony wanted to do dirty, nasty things to this coffee (and maybe to the person that had made it).

Tony decided not to dignify that comment with a response. “Alright kitten, not that this hasn’t been fun, but I should get going.”

Steve’s face fell a little, “Wait - you never answered my question.”

“Which question?” Tony asked absentmindedly, his mind already back in the lab, working through calculations.

“Why are you here this early on a Saturday?”

“Oh, that. I was working in my lab last night… I haven’t actually gone to bed yet.”

Steve frowned at that, “You were working on your projects for Stark Industries?”

And that caught Tony’s attention. “Oh my god, you actually googled me,” Tony exclaimed gleefully. He would have given _anything_ to see Steve’s face when the results came up, especially if he had found the pictures.

Steve crossed his arms and broke eye contact with Tony, clearly uncomfortable with having been caught. “Don’t worry,” Tony reassured him with a broad grin, “Everyone always googles me. What can I say? I’m irresistibly fascinating. So, what did you find?”

Steve’s gaze snapped back to Tony and he scowled some more - which didn’t bode well for Tony. “They say you’re going to be this generation’s Da Vinci.”

“Oh good, you read the Times’ profile on SI. There are some nice pictures of me in that one... But that’s a ridiculous comparison - I don’t paint.” Tony grinned at Steve, inviting him to share the joke but Steve continued to be stubbornly not amused. Ugh. He was such a buzzkill.

“They also call you - and your father and grandfather - Merchants of Death.”

The bottom abruptly dropped out of Tony’s stomach, making him faintly nauseous. Oh. So this was going to be one of _those_ conversations. Tony’s amused expression faded and his smile turned brittle and razor sharp. “That’s not bad. Let me guess… you’re at Tufts or Amherst - something cute and liberal artsy?” When in doubt, always resort to belittling the enemy.

“Harvard, actually. History and Art double major as well as pre-law,” Steve replied coolly.

Tony stared at Steve, incredulous. “Wait a minute, you’re pre-law at _Harvard_ but you feel like you can lecture _me_ about privilege?” When Steve didn’t reply, Tony waved his hand, “Whatever. That’s clearly a whole other argument we’re going to have to have. Well, Mr. Harvard, it’s an imperfect world. I guarantee you the day weapons are no longer needed to keep the peace, SI will start building hospitals.”

Because obviously that’s what this was about. Steve disapproved of what SI did - which these days, was primarily weapons R&D. And honestly, Steve could take his righteous judgement and his _assumptions_ about what exactly Tony did for SI and go shove them up his ass.

“Rehearse that much?” Steve shot back.

“Every night in front of the mirror before bedtime, in fact,” Tony snarked. He fought to keep the anger that was burning hotly through him off of his face. Tony refused to give Steve the satisfaction of seeing that he had finally gotten to him. That his callous words had actually managed to wound Tony. _Merchant of Death._  

Because what did poor, naive, idealistic, little Steve know? He didn’t know how it felt to watch the weapons you had helped design be used to protect American lives one day and to kill innocents the next. He didn’t know the struggle that came with wanting to be proud of your family's legacy while simultaneously being ashamed of what most of that legacy was. And mostly, Steve didn’t know that last year, Tony had told Howard that he would no longer work on weapons technology. No one knew that one. It had been kept quiet both in and outside of SI, mostly so investors and clients wouldn’t panic that the heir to a weapons company wanted nothing to do with weapons. So no, Steve didn’t actually _know_ anything about Tony.

“I can see that,” Steve said scornfully, his words a bitter dismissal.

Tony gave Steve his sleaziest smile, “Would you like to?” Because fuck it. There was clearly no way that Steve was ever going to think of him as anything but a heartless, egotistical dilettante, so he might as well have some fun playing the part.

Steve threw his hands up and gave him an exasperated look, “God Tony, all I want is a straight answer. Why do you do it?”

“Ok, here’s a straight answer. My family has a saying: peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy.” It was what he was expected to say, as his father’s son, as a Stark - it didn’t matter what Tony himself believed.

Steve scoffed, “That’s a good line, coming from the guy selling the sticks.”

“My grandfather - the founder of Stark Industries - helped defeat the Nazis. He worked on the Manhattan Project. A lot of people, including your history professors at Harvard would call that being a hero,” Tony pointed out.

“And a lot of people would also call that war-profiteering,” Steve argued.

Tony sneered. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter how right Tony thought Steve was because Tony would never admit it. This was not a fight that Tony Stark could back down from. One misspoken word in public about Stark Industries by the Stark heir could spell disaster. “Tell me,” he said conversationally, “When you read all about how Stark Industries is killing people, did you come across anything about the millions we've saved by advancing medical technology or kept from starvation with our intelli-crops?” _My projects,_ Tony thought to himself, _most of those are my pet projects, my ideas._

“Have you ever lost an hour of sleep in your life?” Steve demanded, expression harsh.

And Tony’s carefully neutral facade finally broke. He shouldn’t have to put up with this. “Shit Rogers, what the hell is your deal? Why do you even care what I do with my life?” Tony exploded, his voice rising in volume.

“Because it’s not a game!” Steve practically shouted back at him, his hands gripping the counter, knuckles white.

“What’s not a game?” Tony asked, running a hand through his already messy hair, aggravated and wishing he were anywhere else than here.

“This! Life! Everything!” Steve exclaimed, “Even something as small as volunteering. You treat Helping Hands like it’s there for your own personal amusement, but it’s not. A lot of these kids either don’t have the best home lives or are going to have a harder path, the odds of success are stacked against them, just by virtue of how little money their parents have. We have a chance to make a difference in their lives. But clearly, you don’t care about that. You’ve been handed every advantage - money, power, influence, and a mind most would kill for. Do something worthwhile with it. Be better.” Steve huffed out a breath as he finished his little tirade, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

Tony stared at Steve in shock for several long seconds, mind racing, emotions roiling. Anger. Shame. Guilt. _Hurt. Steve’s words had hurt._ Eventually, he managed to gather enough strands of thought together and spoke in a low, vicious murmur. “Wow. That’s probably the most condescending thing anyone’s ever said to me and I regularly talk to my father. Be better? Really Steve? You’ve what, read a couple of magazine articles about my life and spent a grand total of about 12 hours in my company? And you think that gives you the right to tell me what to do? Well you can go fuck yourself Rogers.” Tony gave Steve one last scathing look and before Steve could say anything else (Tony thought he might just crack and crumble for good if Steve did), turned his back and walked out of the shop.

\-------

“Shit,” Steve murmured under his breath, watching as the front door slammed closed behind Tony. In that moment, Steve wanted nothing more than to go after Tony, to make him stay, to make him listen, and to… _fuck,_ apologize. Because Tony probably deserved another apology. Steve really had to stop being such a (what word had Tony used?) asshole when it came to Tony Stark.

Steve stood by most of what he had said to Tony, but he should have found a way to say it better, to tell Tony what he thought without being purposefully cruel. Because Steve hadn’t meant to hurt Tony and something in Tony’s expression right before he had left had seemed to say that Steve had - hurt him, that was. Hell, Steve couldn’t even remember half of what he had actually said to Tony. He had been running on adrenaline, reacting viscerally, personally to Tony - like he always did.

It was sometimes hard for Steve to deal rationally with Tony. Because Tony made Steve feel every inch the young, sickly, scrawny, dirt-poor kid from Brooklyn that he had been growing up. Steve had grown up with practically nothing. His mom - a single parent - had always struggled to make ends meet and Steve had had to work twice as hard as the other kids for everything that he had wanted out of life. Tony, on the other hand, had probably had everything in life handed to him from birth. Tony had so many more options and so much more freedom than Steve that it was hard not to resent him and his choices.

And to top it all off, Tony had the power to rile him up like nothing or no one else did. Steve had said it before and would say it again: Tony just got under his skin. Altogether, it was a flammable, combustible combination. Steve was just amazed they hadn’t blown up at each other sooner. Tuesday. Steve would see Tony Tuesday and things would be better. It’s not like they could get any worse, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, THANKS SO MUCH to everyone that has left kudos and comments - it really means the world to me!!!


	3. Chapter Three

**Tuesday. As usual, Steve is thinking about Tony Stark.**

Steve wiped slightly sweaty palms on his pants as he waited for Tony. Everything was going to be fine. Steve would apologize and Tony would go back to his bright, playful animosity. Steve would apologize and he finally would be able to stop feeling guilty about the wounded look on that had flashed across Tony’s face before he had been able to school his expression into its usual casual nonchalance.

Minutes later, the door opened and Tony came inside, wearing his habitual colored sunglasses (that should have looked ridiculous but that Tony, of course, pulled off with style and aplomb) and with a large, seemingly heavy duffel bag slung over his shoulder, pulling his t-shirt tight across his chest and emphasizing lean muscles. Tony raised an eyebrow in his direction when he noticed Steve hovering by the doorway. “Rogers,” he greeted, his voice cool and devoid of any of its normal teasing inflections. No nickname either. Steve was definitely still on Tony’s shit-list.

Steve swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Tony’s eyebrows climbed so high on his forehead that they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. “I mean, I think I was mostly right, but I’m still sorry,” Steve continued hastily, not really thinking about what he was saying, just wanting to get this conversation over with. Steve was pretty bad at admitting when he might have been wrong.

Tony crossed his arms and gave Steve an unimpressed stare, “Wow. That was some apology, Rogers. I could really feel your remorse,” he drawled, voice heavy with sarcasm. Steve flushed guiltily and silently cursed himself. Why couldn’t he just shut up about his ideals for five goddamn minutes? Long enough to give Tony an actual apology. It was just difficult when Steve felt like he was being pulled in two different directions. On the one hand, Steve truly believed that building deadlier weapons was no way to make the world better or safer and that all of Tony’s considerable potential was being wasted. On the other hand, Steve felt an inexplicable urge to make Tony feel _better_ about his choices. To take away some of the sting Steve’s words had caused the last time they had spoken.

“I didn’t… what I meant was…” Steve stammered, his usual eloquence deserting him as all the arguments and (at times contradictory) apologies he had constructed for this meeting fell to pieces. Because as usual, any control that Steve had over himself vanished as soon as he was face to face with Tony.

Tony looked him, his expression almost aggressively neutral, before he cut off Steve’s rambling, “You know, maybe you’re right.”

Steve’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “I’m what?” he asked, incredulously. Steve was genuinely shocked. Was he dead? Dreaming? Because he couldn’t picture an actual, real-life scenario in which Tony ever _agreed_ with him.

Tony smirked, seemingly enjoying Steve’s reaction. “I really should be taking this whole ‘molding young minds’ thing more seriously,” he continued. And with that startling pronouncement still ringing in Steve’s ears, Tony bent down to retrieve something from the bulging duffel bag. Straightening up, Tony smiled gleefully as he flicked on the - holy shit - _blowtorch_ he was now holding, blue flame shooting out directly in front of Steve’s face.

\-------

“Tony, you can’t let six-year-olds play with _fire._ ”

Tony pouted, actually pouted - as if Steve were being the unreasonable one here. “But it’s science!” he exclaimed, gesturing widely with the still burning blowtorch. Steve took a quick step back. Knowing Tony, he would use this opportunity to “accidentally” set Steve’s shirt on fire. If Steve wasn’t careful, he would be completely out of wearable clothing by the time Tony finished his volunteering stint.

“No. Definitely not,” Steve replied. Tony flicked off the blowtorch, looking crestfallen. He turned wide, pleading eyes on Steve and Steve folded like a cheap suit. “Well, at least not until you get signed permission slips from the kids’ parents,” he said around a sigh and Tony’s mouth immediately curved into a satisfied, victorious smile. Steve had definitely just been played.

“No worries then! We can do something different today,” Tony said breezily, tucking the blowtorch away, “But Thursday - Thursday with be fire-day!” Tony grinned at Steve, a genuinely delighted smile that made Steve’s stomach flutter for some reason. “Too bad we don’t volunteer on Fridays - that would have been a great pun.” And so, “Science Hour with Tony” was born.

\-------

A week later, Steve stood in the back of the room watching as Tony wrapped up Science Hour. Today, Tony had turned the room into a mini planetarium. With the lights dimmed, Tony’s state-of-the-art projector turned the walls and ceiling of the room into a window to the stars. Galaxies, supernovas, and planets spun in and out of view as Tony spoke. Tony’s lecture was a mix of fun and interesting facts about space with a dash of “rocket science” - some rudimentary physics presented at a level that the kids could understand and appreciate.

Tony also had with him an astronaut's helmet and gloves, a piece of a meteorite, and a simulation on his computer that let kids feel like they were controlling the Mars Rover - just to make sure the kids didn’t get bored. As if that were even remotely a possibility.

All thirty-odd kids in Helping Hands sat or lay on the ground (or each other) silent and captivated, listening to Tony and watching the light show. Steve was lucky if he could get ten of them to sit still at any given moment. But Steve couldn’t really blame them. Tony was pretty mesmerizing when he was talking about science. Seeing Tony this passionate about an activity besides making Steve’s life miserable was… interesting, to say the least.

Today’s theme was space. Last Thursday had been, as Tony had promised, all about fire - the science of combustion, the different types of heat (chemical, electrical, solar, etc.), how different elements and chemical compounds reacted when burned. And thankfully, despite Steve’s concerns, no one had actually been set on fire. And last Tuesday - Tony’s first Science Hour - had been all about electricity. By the end of the day, the kids had been making magnets, building working circuits to power light bulbs and the flashing toys that Tony had brought, and playing with static electricity on balloons to make each other’s hair stand on end or race aluminum cans.

Quite simply, it was spectacular. For many of these children - whose parents had never either had the time, money, or inclination to take them to a museum - it was as good as bringing a museum to them. The kids loved Science Hour and they adored Tony. And Steve could already see a newfound passion for science blooming in some of the kids who, because of Tony, might be inspired to one day become engineers, doctors, or computer programmers.

So all in all, what Tony was doing for the kids was amazing and it was driving Steve absolutely crazy. Because Steve couldn’t figure out what Tony’s angle was for not only doing his job, but for going so above and beyond the call of duty. There had to be some hidden motive here, right? Unless Tony was doing it for the express reason that he absolutely knew it would drive Steve mental. Which, if that were the case, Tony was succeeding admirably. Steve stood in the back of the room, pondering the mystery that was Tony Stark before he got distracted by some truly stunning images of the Milky Way galaxy.

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t just as captivated by Tony’s planetarium as the kids. Because who hadn’t wanted to be an astronaut when they were little? And seeing Tony like this - so enthusiastic and engaging - Steve couldn’t help but be begrudgingly charmed, just a little bit. _Damn it_ , Steve thought. If Tony Stark actually turned out to be a decent person underneath all that bravado and snark, Steve would be seriously fucked. Because not only would Steve owe Tony the biggest apology in the world, but he would also be in serious danger of actually _liking_ Tony.

Steve couldn’t quite figure out why he felt it would be a bit… disastrous to be friends with Tony. Maybe it was because he instinctively knew that a friendship between him and Tony was never going to be comfortable. Just by virtue of their strong - and usually clashing - personalities, friendship with Tony would probably be… intense, for lack of a better word. But no. It was pointless to even dwell on it. Friendship didn’t seem to be in the cards for the two of them. Steve wondered why he felt a little disappointed at the thought.

\-------

**Later that night.**

Tony let himself into Pepper’s apartment with the spare key that he had appropriated for his own use. “Pep?” he called out, “Nat?” No answer. Tony glanced down at his watch. Huh. Well, would you look at that. He was actually early! This was probably a first for Tony. Pepper would be so impressed.

Tony was at Pepper and Natasha’s place to crash girl’s night. Tony had a standing invitation to Pepper and Natasha’s Thursday night ritual - which mainly consisted of getting bad take out, drinking wine, and gossiping about all of their mutual acquaintances. Tonight, Tony was taking them up on their offer. Mostly because he was currently suffering from a minor case of inventor’s-block and his normal form of distraction was no longer available to him (i.e. clubbing and random hookups), forcing him to seek out alternate diversions.  But he was also here because Pepper was always willing to listen to Tony bitch about Steve - erm, Lucifer - and Tony really needed that in his life right now.

Tony flopped on the couch, grinning to himself as he thought about Steve’s confused, slightly constipated expression every time Tony did something new and amazing for Science Hour. Getting to see that expression on his face made volunteering almost bearable. Surprisingly, Tony was even finding the kids to be more tolerable these days. Occasionally - very occasionally - some of them could even be classified as cute. Usually when they were excited about science. Tony found most things more enjoyable when they were combined with science and apparently children were not an exception to that rule.

Tony needed to figure out what he was going to do for next Tuesday’s Science hour. It needed to be something interesting (re: kind of dangerous and borderline irresponsible to show to kids because that was half the fun) but informative. And bonus points if Tony could think of something messy enough that Steve would be forced to clean it up after Tony was done teaching. His brainstorming (on a scale of 1-10, how much would Steve kill him if Tony blew something up? The explosion would be super small, tiny really...) was interrupted by the door opening.

“Tony! I didn’t know you were joining us tonight,” Pepper said with a smile.

Tony grinned back at her, “Well Pep, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. After all, what could be better after a long day of classes than coming home and finding me! I’m a delight.”

Pepper rolled her eyes as she slipped of her shoes and hung up her coat. “Of course, your presence is always a gift,” she said snarkily, “But if I had known you were coming, I definitely would have gotten more wine.”

That was an excellent point. Maybe Tony should have texted Pepper earlier. “Noooo,” Tony moaned theatrically, “You can skimp on the alcohol Potts, I’m going to need at least a bottle to myself. It’s a Thursday. I just spent three-plus hours with Lucifer. Wine is 100% necessary.”

Pepper came into the living room and sank gracefully down into one of the armchairs beside the couch. “Ah yes, how is your arch nemesis?”

“Still possibly the worst person I’ve ever met,” Tony replied promptly. It was true. Steve basically had no redeeming features. Well, apart from his face… and his body… and how good he was with kids… and how he was one of the few people able to really _challenge_ Tony. But apart from those _miniscule_ things, Steve had absolute zero good qualities. Tony stood firm on that.

Pepper leveled Tony with an appraising look and steepled her fingers together, “And how have you been torturing this poor boy lately?”

“‘ _Poor boy_?’” Tony said, outraged, laying a hand over his chest. “Pepper, if you’ll remember, I’m the victim here!”

Pepper looked at him fondly, “Fine, let me re-phrase. How is your righteous crusade against assholes everywhere going?”

“That’s more like it,” Tony said appreciatively. “And it’s going great! The other day, I went to the coffee shop where he works and ordered a ridiculously complicated coffee that wasn’t on the menu. I watched him slave over making it and then took just one sip before throwing the whole thing away and ordering a regular black coffee. There was a lot of glaring and impotent rage but he couldn’t yell at me because there were other people in the shop and overall, it was just really satisfying,” Tony finished with a happy sigh.

“You’re such a dick,” Pepper said, a little wonderingly. Like it was some sort of revelation. Like Pepper hadn’t known that about him (and secretly liked it) when they first became friends.

“Yep,” Tony said unrepentantly, grinning as his lips popped around the “p.”

Pepper shook her head a little, trying and failing to hide her smile. “Alright, moving on from Lucifer. What are you doing this weekend?”

“Um, working in my lab followed by some more working in my lab?” Tony replied.

“Nope. We’re going to a party. You know Natasha’s co-worker Bucky?”

“The one that I did shots with that one time, after which we drunkenly sang karaoke together and bonded, causing him to confess to me that he’s in love with Nat?” Tony asked. He quite liked Bucky. Bucky was an excellent bartender and Tony on principle approved of people that gave him alcohol. He was also sarcastic enough to keep up with Tony, had a great singing voice (their duet of “Carry on Wayward Son” had been met with rousing applause), and possessed excellent (if ambitious) taste in women. What was not to like?

“That’s the one,” Pepper said. “He and his roommate are throwing a party at their apartment this weekend and he invited me and Nat and told us to bring our friends - which unfortunately includes you.” Tony made noise of protest, but Pepper just barreled on, “So we’re all going.”

“Pep, you know I can’t really do parties right now,” Tony said carefully. As much as he wanted to go (mostly so Pepper wouldn’t give him her lethal “I’m disappointed in you” look), Tony really couldn’t risk showing up in any trashy tabloids or blogs. One wrong move on his part and Howard would undoubtedly do something extremely unpleasant.

Surprisingly, Pepper chuckled. “Tony, it’s not that type of party. I know you’re used to parties on yachts and in club VIP lounges where half the guests are celebrities and people are doing lines of cocaine in the bathroom, but this is just going to a low-key college party. No paparazzi, no scandals waiting to happen - I promise.”

Tony paused, thinking it over. Maybe he could let himself go a little and it wouldn’t end in disaster? Wow, that was a startlingly optimistic thought for him to have had. Pepper looked at him, leaning forward with pleading eyes, “Come on, I need a wingman since Bucky is probably going to monopolize Nat the minute she walks through the door.”

“Alright, fine! I’ll come to the party. Put the puppy-dog eyes away Potts, you’ve won.”

“Excellent,” Pepper said, sinking back into her chair with a satisfied smile. After a minute, her expression softened, became more serious. “Tony, I know we haven’t really talked a lot about it, but I’m… glad that you’ve stopped going out as much.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at Pepper, silently asking her to elaborate. Pepper hastily continued, “I mean, it’s awful that your dad is essentially blackmailing you - Howard really is a class act, isn’t he? - but I worry about you less when instead of getting drunk or high every other night in some random club, you’re spending time in your lab. I just like knowing you’re safe.”

Any anger that Tony might have been building up abruptly died. Because he got it, he really did. Before the beginning of this semester, Tony had been spiraling for a while and as much as he hated admitting it, Howard’s edict and volunteering with Steve had helped stop that spiraling. Somehow, Tony was happier now - spending hours in his workshop, hanging out more with Pepper and his other actual friends, and thinking of new ways to get under Steve’s skin - than he ever had been while partying or during one of his random hookups.

Tony smiled softly back at Pepper and reached out to squeeze her hand, “I get it Pep.” Then, because there had already been way too many sincere, heartfelt emotions in this conversation, Tony changed the subject, “And what is this about you needing a wingman, Potts? Have you finally set your sights on some fine, strapping young man? Who is this gentleman suitor and is he even remotely good enough for you?”

Pepper blushed and Tony spent the next ten minutes before Natasha came home trying to wheedle information (and said gentleman’s name) out of Pepper.

\-------

**Saturday night. Bucky and… someone’s apartment.**

“Ladies, you look stunning as always.” Tony greeted Pepper and Natasha with his most charming smile and a helping hand as the two stepped out of a cab. They had arranged to meet in front of the apartment building where the party was taking place and head inside together.

Pepper gave him a beaming smile as Natasha gave him a slow once over. “Not bad Stark,” she said, lifting an appraising eyebrow.

Tony winked, “It’s all for you, Nat.” Wearing tight-fitting jeans, a v-neck t-shirt and blazer, Tony knew he looked good - he always had cleaned up nicely.

Natasha rolled her eyes and punched Tony (lightly, thank god - an actual punch from Natasha would flatten him) in the shoulder. “Save it for someone who’s actual susceptible to bad pickup lines and big, brown eyes.”

“You’re right,” Tony replied, amused, “I hear you’re much more inclined to cute, blue-eyed bartenders.”

Natasha sent a glare over to Pepper who raised her hands in the air, “I didn’t tell him anything, I swear!” before flicking her hair over her shoulder and flouncing away from Tony and Pepper into the building.

“It’s okay Tasha!” Tony called after, “No one’s judging! I would totally hit that too, given the chance!” Next to him Pepper giggled and Tony extended an arm for her to take, “Well Ms. Potts, shall we?”

Pepper gave him a small curtsy, “We shall, Mr. Stark.” And together they walked into the building. Minutes later they were standing in front of the correct apartment and Pepper lifted a hand to knock. Tony could already hear music faintly pulsing beyond the door combined with the murmurings of multiple conversations. This was going to be good. It had been way too long since Tony had actually had a night out. He was fully prepared to enjoy himself.

The door flew open revealing Clint. “Welcome!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, the hand not holding the door gripping a plastic cup and brandishing it energetically.

“Hey Clint,” Pepper replied, “It looks like you’re already well on your way to having a good time.”

“Obviously,” Clint said, grinning and taking a pointed sip out of his cup.

“Barton,” Tony greeted. “Are you the roommate?” he asked, only just realizing he had no idea who Bucky’s roommate and party co-host was.

“Good god no,” Clint said cheerfully, “I would probably kill Bucky if I had to both work and live him.”

“Fair enough. Where is Barnes? I need to give him his hosting gift,” Tony asked waving the bottle of whisky he had brought with him.

“Aw, look whose parents raised him right,” Clint cooed, reaching out to try to pinch one of Tony’s cheeks.

Tony fought him off, laughing, “Ugh. No. If you don’t stop, you won’t get any of the whiskey, and it’s the good stuff.”

Clint immediately stopped, “You don’t mess around do you? Anyways, Bucky’s in the kitchen - that’s where the alcohol is too!” With a cheerful salute, Clint turned away, disappearing back into the crowd of people in the living room.

“To the kitchen?” asked Pepper.

“The kitchen,” Tony agreed.

Tony and Pepper made their way into the kitchen which was much less densely populated than the living room. Bucky was there, standing by the counter which was littered with different bottles of alcohol and mixer and talking enthusiastically to Natasha, who was smiling up at him. On the other side of Bucky was a blond guy whose back was currently turned to Tony, but Tony took a moment to notice the guy’s truly phenomenal backside that was being showcased in well-fitted jeans.

Seeing him and Pepper, Bucky called out, “Pepper, Tony! So glad you could come.”

“Bucky,” replied Pepper, giving him a quick hug.

“Barnes,” Tony said, handing him the bottle of whiskey, “Thanks-” but his sentence was abruptly cut off as the blond guy who had begun turning around the moment Bucky had greeted Pepper and Tony faced fully forward. “Steve?” Tony asked, not believing his eyes. Because there, standing in front of him, looking equally dumfounded, was Steve Rogers. AKA Lucifer. His arch nemesis. Who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Oh shit.

“Tony?” Steve asked, eyes wide and surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited!” Tony replied, indignant. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here!” Steve replied, just as indignantly and with a glare thrown in for good measure.

“Fuck, you’re the roommate,” Tony said faintly, disbelievingly. Of course Steve was the roommate. Why? Because the universe hated Tony. Looking at Steve’s scowling face, Tony saw all his hopes of a fun evening swirling away. Well, at least now he had an excuse to get really, _really_ drunk.

“You two know each other?” Bucky asked, looking at Steve and Tony with a puzzled expression.

Steve turned to Bucky, eyes intense, clearly trying to silently communicate something to him. “Um, Buck,” Steve began carefully, “Tony’s my volunteering partner at Helping Hands.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped open, “Holy shit, the ‘Rich Kid’ you can’t shut up about is Tony?” Steve covered his face with his hand.

Tony squawked, “Rich Kid?!” But before he could give Steve hell for the ignominy and unoriginality of that nickname, Pepper jumped into the conversation.

“Oh my god, Lucifer - the person you’ve been complaining about non-stop - is Steve?” Pepper asked, her eyes shining with amusement. Next to Steve, Bucky silently mouthed “Lucifer” while Natasha brought a hand up to cover her mouth, clearly struggling not smile.

Steve dropped the hand that was covering his face in order to scowl at Tony again. “Lucifer?” he exclaimed.

“Please, like you don’t deserve the title,” Tony scoffed, reaching out to pour himself a shot of straight vodka. He needed it desperately. But before he could knock back the drink, Steve reached out to pluck the cup straight out of Tony’s hands. Tony looked at his empty hand forlornly before turning his head up to glare at Steve, “Excuse you, I was about to drink that.”

“You’re 18,” Steve said disapprovingly.

Tony stared at Steve. Steve stared back. “Holy shit, you’re actually serious,” Tony said wonderingly.

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve said, crossing his arms.

Next to him, Bucky was staring at them both a gleeful expression on his face. “Oh my god, this is better than dinner theater,” he whispered. Pepper nodded enthusiastically, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Tony and Steve as if she was watching a tennis match. Tony ignored them. He definitely needed to get new, more supportive friends - friends that weren’t also friends with his arch nemesis.

“I would be allowed to drink in Europe!” Tony protested.

Steve gave him an unimpressed look, “Then go to Europe.”

“Believe me, I’m strongly considering it,” Tony muttered. How mad would Howard be if charted the private Stark family jet for a little vacation? Because if Tony remained on the same continent as Steve for one minute longer, he might just strangle him. Tony made a grab for his cup that Steve was still holding, but Steve just raised it over his head, smirking. Fuck, Steve was a giant.

Tony narrowed his eyes. Steve was not going to win this round. Turning to Bucky, Tony grabbed the whiskey back out of his hands, “If you’ll excuse me Barnes, I’ll actually be needing that back.” Steve stopped smirking. Tony smiled at him sweetly, triumphantly and reached up to pat Steve’s cheek, “Catch you later cupcake.” And with his bounty clutched firmly in hand, Tony turned and walked out of the kitchen, ready to forget to the existence of one Steve Rogers (no matter how much whiskey it took). He would have a good time tonight or die trying.

Behind him, he heard Bucky turn to Steve and echo, his voice strangled and high-pitched, “‘Cupcake?!’”

\-------

“Oh my god you dork, stop glaring at Tony. People are going to think you want to murder him and wear his skin as a suit,” Bucky’s words distracted Steve and he yanked his gaze away from where it had indeed been resting on Tony, who was across the room, grinning as he talked with Darcy and Clint. Tony looked good, but he usually did. Surrounded by people willing and eager to be dazzled, Tony was clearly in his element.

Steve quirked a wry smile at Bucky. “Well, I definitely don’t want to wear his skin as a suit,” he remarked, purposefully not saying anything about the “murder” part because Steve didn’t want to make a promise to Bucky that he couldn’t keep. Before Bucky could say anything, Steve asked, “So how do you know Tony?” He was burningly, involuntarily curious - which actually, now that he thought about it, was his usual state of being where Tony Stark was concerned. Steve couldn’t help it. Unfortunately, he found Tony fascinating.

“He comes to the bar with Pepper a decent amount, especially when Nat’s on shift. I can’t believe you two never met before he started volunteering at Helping Hands.”

“So, he and Pepper...” Steve trailed off, a question in his voice.

“Oh god, no,” Bucky said, laughing a little. “They’re just friends - best friends, really. And plus, from what Nat tells me, Tony’s not really the ‘relationship’ type. More the ‘sleep with anyone remotely attractive’ type.”

“Oh,” said Steve, feeling strangely… relieved? But why would he care whether or not Tony was dating?

Misinterpreting Steve’s expression, Bucky laughed and smacked Steve on the arm, “I’m sorry, did I scandalize you? I know you’re basically a 19th century Victorian maiden, but other people-” Laughing, Steve shoved Bucky back and Bucky’s sentence was cut off as he yelped. Bucky straightened up and fixed Steve with a serious look, “Steve, I know you and Tony got off on the wrong foot, but he really is a good guy.”

“He hasn’t done a lot to prove it to me,” Steve said bluntly, feeling irrationally angry - but he couldn’t quite figure out why. Because Bucky was taking Tony’s side? Because Bucky and Tony were clearly friends (something Steve and Tony probably would never be)?

Bucky frowned, “I think if you gave him a second chance - a real second chance - he might surprise you.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, “I’ve found Tony’s surprises to be uniquely unpleasant so far.”

Bucky smiled a little at that, “Well, Tony’s never been one to back down when he feels like he’s right. It’s something you two have in common.” Bucky paused, his smile turning into more of a smirk, “You know, I think that you two have a lot more in common than you think. You guys would make good friends. Complement each other and all that shit.” When Steve just looked at Bucky incredulously (him and Tony friends? In what universe?) Bucky added, “Nat agrees with me,” as if it was the perfect justification for his crazy ideas.

“You’re drunk,” Steve accused.

Bucky just laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders, “Very probably. Come on Rogers, stop brooding in the corner. Come have another drink and talk to some people. I promise to keep Stark far away from you and your delicate sensibilities.”

\-------

A few hours later, the party was winding down - only a few people, mostly their close friends, were left in the apartment. Despite everything, Steve had had a good time at the party, catching up with everyone - especially the friends they saw less often, like Thor and Jane. True to his promise, Bucky had kept Steve and Tony separated throughout the evening, but even so, Steve couldn’t help surreptitiously watching Tony whenever he thought he could get away with it. It was just interesting to see Tony interact with people that weren’t Steve or a bunch of six-year-olds. And plus, Steve realized that the more he drank, the less he wanted to yell at Tony and the more distracting he found Tony.

Watching Tony, Steve had noticed that he was apparently the only person in the entire world that was immune to Tony Stark’s charm. Because that’s what Tony undoubtedly was. He was eloquent and gregarious, always ready with a joke, outrageous story, easy compliment, or blinding smile. In a word: charming. And Steve had watched as everyone at the party fell under Tony’s spell. “Spell” because Steve was pretty sure that witchcraft was involved somehow.

But the longer Steve had observed, the more he had gotten the sense that Tony was only really comfortable with the people he was close to, like Pepper and Natasha. Although Tony had smiled just as much when talking to people that he barely knew or had just meet, Steve thought his smile had seemed… strained and a little brittle. Like Tony hadn’t been completely comfortable. It was, as with most things related to Tony, intriguing.

Steve glanced down at his watch. Oh geez, it was almost 2 AM. Steve looked around, searching for Bucky, and saw him pressed close to Natasha on one of the couches, heads bent close together as they talked. _Good for him_ , Steve thought, smiling. Not wanting to interrupt, Steve took his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Bucky, saying that he was going to bed but that he would help with clean up tomorrow.

Trudging down the hallway, Steve stifled a yawn as he opened the door to his room. But abruptly, Steve came to a halt, because there, standing in the middle of Steve’s room, hands on hips, was Tony. “What are you doing in here?” Steve asked, accusingly.

Tony just gave him an appraising look, “This is your room? I should have guessed due to the-” Tony broke off to gesture at the entire room.

Steve looked around, confused. It looked like a normal college student’s room, if pretty pathologically neat. What? Steve didn’t like clutter. There was a bed, a desk, a bookshelf mostly filled with textbooks, and a closet. The walls had a few posters hung on them, mostly prints from artists that Steve liked and there was an easel with a mostly finished painting standing in the corner. Everything in the room was either bought on sale from IKEA or obtained secondhand from Craigslist. It was pretty threadbare, but Steve honestly couldn’t afford anything more. Not if he wanted to eat.

“What are you doing in here Tony?” Steve asked again, firmly.

Tony smirked at him, “Don’t get your panties all in a twist buttercup, I just got a little lost on my way to the bathroom. I haven’t touched anything.” Steve crossed his arms and stared at Tony, not sure if he could believe him. Tony laughed a little before continuing, “So… you’re an artist.”

Steve blinked once, twice - disconcerted by the change in subject. “Um, yes. But you knew that.” Steve was pretty sure he had told Tony that was double majoring in History and Art.

“Well, knowing is different than seeing.” Tony turned a little to look at the painting on the easel, head tilted to side. After a moment he said, “It’s good.”

“What do you know about art?” Steve asked, feeling absurdly defensive. He didn’t quite know why. It was just that having Tony here, in his space and looking at his art - which was probably one of the most personal things in his life - threw him off balance.

Tony laughed a little again, but not a mean or mocking laugh. A genuine one. Probably more genuine than his laughs from earlier in the night. “Almost nothing,” he admitted breezily, turning back to look at Steve with sparkling eyes, “But isn’t that point of good art? Isn’t it supposed to just make you feel, really _feel_ \- even if you know nothing about it?”

Steve stared at Tony, completely dumfounded. Was this actually happening? Was he having a conversation about the meaning of art at two in the morning with his probably-drunk enemy? And had he understood Tony correctly? Because the subtext of Tony’s words was a compliment - that Steve’s art was good because it had made Tony, who knew nothing about art, feel. Really feel. And just what was Steve supposed to do with that? What did it mean if Tony looked at Steve’s art and _understood_?

A bit at a loss for words, Steve quoted, “‘Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.’”

Tony hummed a little. “Who said that? Or is a Steve Rogers original?”

“Edgar Degas,” Steve replied.

“The ballerinas,” Tony said.

Steve raised an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t know anything about art?”

Tony shrugged, “I don’t really. But if we’re doing quotations by famous artists, I like ‘creativity takes courage.’” Tony paused and grinned at Steve, “Said by Matisse, endorsed by Tony Stark. I’ve always thought that engineering was a little bit like art. Anyways, great party, princess! I’ll see you Tuesday.” And with a little wave, Tony turned on his heel and walked out of Steve’s room.

“Good night!” Steve called out after Tony belatedly, still reeling from their conversation. Well, fuck. So that had happened. Just who was Tony Stark really?

\-------

**Sunday morning (kind of). It’s actually more like 12:30 PM.**

Tony woke up to his phone buzzing. Groaning, he rolled over and flopped his hand around on the side table, looking for it. Finally managing to grab it, he opened a bleary eye to read the text message. It was from Pepper.

Pepper Potts: _Lunch at Shield in one hour. Be there._

Tony shut his eyes and debated just not answering. But no. Pepper would definitely kill him if he stood her up. And plus, he really needed a good brunch. With something fried. Bacon. Yummmm.

Tony Stark: _Fine. You’re buying._

With that settled, Tony lay in his bed for another few minutes, gathering the willpower to get up. Eventually he managed it, and one shower later he was feeling marginally more human. At about 1:30, Tony strolled into Shield.  Bucky was on waiter duty today apparently, and he smiled when he saw Tony. “Tony! I’ll take you to your table,” he said, leading Tony through the bar/restaurant.

Tony smiled back, “You’re surprisingly chipper for someone who probably only got a few hours of sleep. You were still up when I left around 2:30.”

Bucky winked at him, “What can I say, I had a good night.”

Tony smirked remembering how close Bucky and Natasha had been when he had left, “Really now? Good for you, Barnes. I knew you had it in you. It only took you a little over a year.”

Bucky cheerfully gave Tony the finger and they finally stopped in front of a booth. Tony glanced over, expecting to see Pepper but instead finding Steve who looked just as surprised to see Tony. “Um, I don’t think this is-” but Tony’s sentence was cut off as Bucky pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to sit down across from Steve.

“Have a good lunch you two! I’ll be right back to take your order,” Bucky said jauntily, before scurrying off to another table.

As Tony sat, trying to process what exactly was happening, his phone buzzed. Fishing it out of his pocket, he opened the text.

Pepper Potts: _You and Steve are staying in the booth until you kiss and makeup and agree to be friends. OR ELSE._

Pepper Potts: _The “or else” obviously referring to me setting Natasha on you if you guys don’t put aside your differences._

Pepper Potts: _All of your friends are friends so you two need to be friends. Or at least, you need to be able to be in the same room without wanting to kill each other. Make it happen._

Tony stared at his phone, horrified. Pepper wanted him to do what now? Really, his friends were the absolute worst. Tony glanced over at Bucky who was watching them. Bucky pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at Tony and Steve in the classic “I’m watching you” gesture. Clearly, he was Pepper’s spy and co-conspirator. Next Tony looked at Steve, who was holding his phone and wearing a panicked look on his face.

Tony slid his phone across the table so Steve could read Pepper’s text. “I’m assuming Bucky sent you something similar?” Tony asked. Steve nodded, looking grim.

Tony sighed. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else left to do. We’re going to have to fake it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so, so much for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! I am so beyond happy that you guys are enjoying the story :D This chapter seemed a little lite on the action when I wrote it, but I think it was necessary to advance the plot to the place I wanted it. Anyways! Exciting stuff is ahead as Tony and Steve will spend time together while actively trying to not hate each other!! #theshipsailsslowlybutsurely


	4. Chapter Four

**Three days later. Lunchtime.**

Steve startled as the tray plunked down on the table in front of him. “I took the liberty of picking up your order for you, Steve,” Tony exclaimed as he slid into the seat next to him, grinning all the while. Pepper, Natasha, and Bucky were all still up at the counter of the burger joint, figuring out their orders.

“Really,” Steve replied flatly, eyes narrowing as he peered suspiciously down at the burger and fries on the tray in front of him and then back up at Tony.

Tony beamed at him, “Anything for my new BFF.”

Steve poked the burger. It certainly _looked_ normal. “Do you really expect me to eat this?” Steve asked.

“Of course,” Tony said innocently, fluttering his ridiculously long eyelashes at Steve, “Why wouldn’t you?”

Steve stared hard at Tony. Tony blinked back at him, eyes wide and guileless. Steve slowly picked up the burger, brought it to his mouth and took a bite. Never breaking eye contact, Tony picked up and took a bite out of his own burger. Tony chewed and swallowed. So did Steve. But then he frowned because that taste… he knew what that was. Eyes widening, Steve began to splutter, trying to spit out the bite that he had taken, but it was too late. Tony’s mouth widened into a satisfied smirk, all edges and no curves.

Tony glanced at the others, still all the way across the restaurant, and leaned over the table, chin propped up in one hand. “Oh dear,” he murmured, his quiet voice filled with mock concern, “Did mushrooms somehow find their way onto your burger? How terrible.”

Steve’s stomach roiled and he didn’t think opening his mouth would be a good idea at this juncture so he settled for glaring at Tony. He hoped his eyes adequately conveyed his murderous intentions. Tony’s smile just grew and he tutted, “Someone has a ‘sensitivity’ to mushrooms don’t they? You throw up whenever you eat them. Just awful. I can’t believe the restaurant accidentally put the one thing you’re allergic to on your burger. So unlucky.”

Steve flipped Tony off (“ _accidentally_ ” his ass) and rose from the table. He needed to get to a bathroom rather urgently or things were going to get ugly. Steve wasn’t proud of it, but for a second he contemplated just staying right there at the table and throwing up all over Tony’s lovely, probably obscenely expensive, Italian loafers. But alas, no. He couldn’t. As he practically sprinted to the bathroom, Tony’s voice called out after him, “Need me to come with you and hold your hair back, honey?” and Steve wished that he didn’t have such a loud conscience. Tony deserved to lose a pair of shoes.

\-------

Steve flushed the toilet and went to the sink to rinse out his mouth. Steve looked at his reflection in the bathroom and grimaced. He couldn’t believe that he had let down his guard so much around Tony. It was just that for the past three days - ever since they had agreed to pretend to be “friends” - Tony had been so quiet. In fact, he had seemingly taken to their “friendship” charade with relentless commitment.

Since Sunday’s lunch, Tony had been unfailingly nice and polite to Steve. Tony threw no snide or arrogant comments his way and he started no arguments. He had ceased his never-ending parade of horrible nicknames and he hadn’t played a single prank on Steve. Tony’s angelic behavior had lulled Steve into a false sense of security. But, as today’s events clearly demonstrated, Tony hadn’t actually changed, he’d merely been biding his time. And apparently the only reason that Tony had been so dedicated to faking a friendship with Steve was because it offered him new and exciting avenues for sabotage. Case in point: there was no way Steve would have accepted any food touched by Tony before their supposed truce.

Steve studied his reflection. And even though he still looked a little pale and had a bad aftertaste in his mouth, he found himself grinning. Because the truth was, Steve had fucking hated the mild mannered, unfailingly civil, _fake_ version of Tony that he had been dealing with for the past few days - for two main reasons. First and foremost, Steve had been bored out of his skull by the bland person Tony had been pretending to be in order to fake keeping the peace between them. Second, the way Tony had been acting towards Steve since the truce had only served to highlight the stark difference between Steve and Tony’s actual friends. And therein lay the problem. Because Steve maybe, kind of wanted to be Tony’s actual friend too.

Steve recalled what had happened three days ago. Or as he had started calling it in his head: the moment he went insane and decided that friendship with Tony Stark was something worth pursuing.

Sitting across from him at SHIELD, Tony had sighed. “Well, I guess there’s nothing else left to do. We’re going to have to fake it.”

“What?” Steve had asked, confused. But then again, Steve was confused during 90% of his interactions with Tony, so that was nothing new.

Tony had rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated that Steve hadn’t immediately come up with the same solution as he had. “Obviously, we’re going to have to pretend to be nice to each other to keep our friends happy. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?”

Steve had just blinked at Tony for a moment, processing, before throwing in eye roll of his own, crossing his arms, and replying (really trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum), “Or, you know, we could just actually try to be friends.”

Tony had wrinkled his nose (it was kind of cute) before giving up and laughing hysterically, his eyes sparkling. “Oh dear god no!” he had exclaimed and Steve had felt a frisson of… hurt at Tony’s immediate and automatic dismissal of Steve’s friendship. But Steve had promptly buried any distressing feelings he might or might not have had. It’s not like he had actually wanted to be friends with Tony anyways, right? It had just been a moment of temporary insanity.

Except, ever since the moment he had first had thought - _would it be so bad to be friends with Tony?_ \- he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility. Sure Steve didn’t really _approve_ of Tony (or understand him), but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t be friends, right? And the more he had thought about it, the more he had wanted it.

And seeing how Tony interacted with his real friends now that they all spent time together hadn’t helped. With people that Tony genuinely liked (Pepper, Natasha, Bruce), he was all good-natured teasing, bright smiles, bad jokes, and captivating conversation. Steve watched the interactions and was hit by a weird sense of jealousy and longing. Apparently, Steve just wanted Tony to give him one genuine smile or to have just one conversation with Tony that wasn’t filled with subtle insults and yelling. It was crazy and idiotic and Steve had no idea why he was so stupidly fixated on Tony Stark, but apparently these… feelings weren’t going to go away anytime soon.

But regardless, Steve didn’t think that friendship between him and Tony was going to happen anytime soon. Because clearly Tony had no desire to be _Steve’s_ friend. So why was Steve standing in front of a mirror and grinning stupidly at himself? Well, what had just happened proved that despite three days of Tony acting seemingly apathetic, Tony hadn’t gotten bored of tormenting Steve. Because if Tony wouldn’t give Steve his friendship, Steve would settle for having his attention. When it came to Tony, Steve would take hate over indifference any day. Steve slowly shook his head. Oh god. He really was going insane.

\-------

“Feeling better, buttercup?” Tony asked sweetly as Steve came back to the table and dropped back into the seat next to him.

“Much.” Steve smiled back at Tony, letting his genuine pleasure show and enjoying the way Tony’s brows furrowed in confusion as his smug grin faltered.

After a moment of intense scrutiny, Tony shook his head minutely and let a bold smile reclaim his expression. He threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pressed himself close, “Well that’s good, muffin.” Apparently, the nicknames were back. Steve stiffened for half a second before relaxing into Tony’s half-embrace.

That was another thing that had started after their truce: the touching. Tony had used the pretense of their fake friendship to drape himself all over Steve in public, at every opportunity. Tony had probably started doing it because of how visibly wary and spooked Steve had been the first few times Tony had touched him. But by now, Steve was used to it and was pretty good at ignoring the strange warm and tingly feeling that he got whenever Tony laid hands on him. Consequently, Steve no longer reacted adversely to Tony’s proximity. However, Tony had apparently gotten used to hanging off of Steve and so hadn’t seen fit to stop doing it. Steve couldn’t bring himself to mind too much.

Steve used Tony’s distraction to steal the half-finished burger that was sitting in front of him. “I’ll just be taking that since I can’t eat mine. You don’t mind, do you, _friend_?” Steve took a large bite of Tony’s burger and grinned obnoxiously.

Tony spluttered in outrage, “That’s my burger!”

Steve shook his head in mock sadness, “Not anymore.” He pushed his own burger in front of Tony and smiled cheekily, “I hope you like mushrooms.”

\-------

From across the restaurant, Bucky, Pepper, and Natasha watched as Tony attempted to grab his burger back from Steve, but Steve just held it over his head, out of Tony’s reach, laughing.

“Do they actually think we’re buying their whole ‘we’re best friends now’ spiel?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

“Tony definitely does,” Natasha replied, amused. “He’s always thought he’s a better actor than he actually is.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Do we tell them to cut the crap? That we know?”

Pepper shook her head rapidly, “Good god no, if we tell them we know they’re faking, they'll just go back to yelling at each other all the time and bitching about it to us.” She smirked and added, “And plus, think of the entertainment value if we let them keep going.”

The three of them watched as Tony grabbed both things of fries from his and Steve’s trays, scooted down several seats out of Steve’s reach, and proceeded to start smugly licking each fry (marking his territory) as Steve watched, obviously horrified.

“Children, they’re actually children,” Pepper said disbelievingly.

“You know,” Natasha remarked conversationally, “I think I know something that would make this at least 10 times better.”

“Yeah?” Pepper asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Alcohol,” Natasha answered succinctly.

Pepper cackled and Bucky hid his head in his hands, “There is no way this is going to end well. Nat, I’m holding you responsible when Steve kills Tony in a crime of passion.”

Natasha just shrugged, a wicked smile curving her lips.

\-------

**Later that night. Alcohol. Tony’s apartment.**

“I’m not getting drunk on a Wednesday night, I have class tomorrow!” Steve protested, sounding scandalized by the very idea.

Tony snickered from his seat across the circle, reassured by Steve’s outburst. Steve had been acting… strange ever since they had started their friendship ruse a few days ago, so hearing him make such a quintessential Steve “I am a stick in the mud” Rogers statement was comforting. Steve glared at Tony (also typical) and Tony drawled, “Well angel, it’s not like you’re in any danger of getting drunk off of this game.” Tonight’s drinking game of choice was Never Have I Ever and if Steve took more than one sip all night, Tony would be genuinely shocked. Steve was probably purer than freshly fallen snow.

Tony wasn’t quite sure how they had all ended up back at his apartment (he normally tried to keep people out of his space) or how exactly they had hit upon the idea of playing Never Have I Ever, but here they all were (even Clint and Thor had appeared from… somewhere), sitting in a circle on the floor, glasses in hand. Natasha looked particularly pleased though, so Tony suspected she had something to do with it.

Upon hearing his little comment, Pepper shot him a surprised look causing Tony to silently curse. _Damn it._ He had been doing so well at not baiting Steve. It had been three long, dull, tortuous days of having to play nice (which was so not Tony’s forte) but today’s earlier prank had finally broken through the monotony with the consequence of making him forget the act he was supposed to be keeping up around his friends. Tony rolled his eyes and smiled, “I was just kidding, obviously.”

Pepper arched a skeptical brow at him but before she could say anything, Bucky started chuckling. “You might be surprised Stark, Stevie here has quite a few interesting stories.” At Tony’s incredulous look (the day he admitted Steve was interesting was the day he might as well just give up on modern life and go live as a hermit in the woods) Bucky laughed some more, “Well they’re not quite ‘I stole Leonardo DiCaprio’s yacht’ interesting, but really, how is anyone supposed to top that?”

Steve looked scandalized all over again and Tony smirked. Scandalized was really a good look on Steve and Tony deeply, viscerally enjoyed being the one to bring that expression to Steve’s face… even though it made him think about all the other things he could do that would well and truly scandalize Steve. Ugh. Stupid brain. Steve’s hotness really made hating him hard sometimes, but never fear, Tony was more than up for the challenge.

Interrupting Tony’s musings was Pepper’s voice, “All right, why don’t we get this game started. Hmm… never have I ever… stolen a yacht.”

Tony’s smirk promptly fell off his face and he turned to glare at his traitor of a best friend. “That’s a low blow, Potts.” He lifted his glass to his lips, fully expecting to be the only one drinking when he noticed Clint also moving to take a sip and nearly choked.

Clint looked around at all the shocked and bemused stares directed his way and shrugged. “Please, who _hasn’t_ taken a yacht on a joyride at one time or another?”

Tony grinned and reached over to clink his glass with Clint’s, “Cheers Barton, at least someone else here knows how to live.” Tony glanced over at Steve and found him frowning disapprovingly at Tony again, arms crossed over his chest. Tony suppressed a wince. _Fantastic. Just another reason for Steve to think I’m a spoiled brat._ Then he promptly got annoyed at himself for caring about what Steve thought of him. So Tony just gave Steve a beatific smile, knowing it would piss him off even more. And, well, Tony kind of lived for that.

\-------

Things Tony Stark learned about Steve Rogers while playing Never Have I Ever:

  * Steve had never kissed a guy. Tony was disappointed (which was weird because it wasn’t like he actually wanted to kiss Steve, no siree) but not surprised.
  * Steve had been in handcuffs, but only because he had been on the verge of being arrested for punching someone (who has apparently deserved it). Unfortunately, Steve hadn’t actually been arrested. Regardless, Tony was positively, gleefully, shocked and resolved to get more details from Bucky (when he wasn’t being glared into submission by Steve) ASAP.
  * Shocking no one, Steve had never had a threesome or done any drugs. Tony had drunk for both of those, earning a look of severe judgement from Steve. Tony had stuck out his tongue. After a few drinks, Tony’s maturity (which was never terribly high in the first place) started to slip.
  * Steve had run a marathon. Tony resolved to start going to the gym again and glared at Steve’s abs, which seemed to be mocking him with their very existence.
  * Interestingly, Steve had sung karaoke before and apparently had a lovely singing voice. Tony really hoped Bucky was lying about that, because was it fair for Steve to have a good singing voice on top of everything else? Obviously not.
  * Steve had also never kissed someone on the lips on a first date. Tony refused to admit he thought it was kind of adorable and instead focused on the fact that he now had So. Much. Teasing. Material.
  * And Steve had never been in love, which Tony found fascinating.



And sure, Tony had also learned a lot of interesting things about everyone else (he really could have gone to his grave happily never knowing that Thor had named his penis after an ancient Norse hammer), but obviously the things he had learned about Steve were the _most_ interesting. Tony choose not to think too hard about why that was. Steve was his arch nemesis. It was only natural to be intrigued by everything about him, right?

Things Steve Rogers (unfortunately) learned about Tony Stark while playing Never Have I Ever:

  * Tony had definitely kissed (and done a lot more) a guy/multiple guys.
  * Tony had also been in handcuffs. But then again, Tony had also been arrested. Once or twice. But never charged with anything! Tony was proud of that.
  * Tony had once lied about a family member dying as an excuse to get out of doing something. That one caused Steve’s face to get all pinched and scowly which Tony enjoyed.
  * Tony had been slapped across the face before. He maintained that he definitely hadn’t deserved it. Steve didn’t seem to buy it and looked like he was fantasizing about what it would be like to slap Tony himself.
  * Tony had genuinely liked that one Justin Bieber song. Which honestly might have been his most horrifying confession of the night.
  * Tony had set someone else’s hair on fire on purpose. Steve looked a bit terrified at that admission, no doubt fearing for his own lovely blonde tresses and Tony had merely smirked and attempted to look like he was seriously considering the idea. Steve had to be kept in line.
  * And although Tony had _accidentally_ said “I love you” to someone, like Steve, he had never actually been in love before.



\-------

Well, shit. Steve was drunk. How had it even happened? He hadn’t drunk that much during the game, unfortunately proving Tony right. Whatever. Steve refused to feel bad about being a good person. And it’s not like his life was boring! It was just boring when you compared it to Tony’s outrageous life. Steve hadn’t even begun to process what he had learned about Tony throughout the course of the game, but for some reason he kept focusing on the mental image of Tony in handcuffs??? Steve frowned down at his mixed drink. It didn’t taste very alcoholic. It mostly just tasted delicious. Steve took another sip, still frowning. Nope. Still mainly just delicious.

“Bucky,” Steve asked, suddenly suspicious, “How much alcohol did you put in this drink?”

Bucky blinked innocently at Steve, “A completely normal amount?”

Steve stared at Bucky. Bucky stared back. Steve gave his best _serious look_ and the corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth,” Steve eventually declared and all of his suspicions were confirmed when Bucky burst out laughing. Steve sniffed, “I’m going to the bathroom and when I come back, I expect an apology, James Buchanan Barnes.” For some reason, this only caused Bucky to laugh harder. Steve wasn’t quite sure why, Bucky knew he was in _serious trouble_ when Steve (or Bucky’s mom) used his full name.

Steve got to his feet rather unsteadily and then paused as he locked eyes with Tony across the circle. Tony’s gaze seemed to bore into his and Steve felt pinned the spot. Horrifically, Steve felt himself fighting back a blush. Then the side of Tony’s mouth quirked up into a small smile and Steve felt whatever spell had been holding him in place break. Steve tore his eyes away from Tony and hurriedly left the room. With dignity though. He definitely wasn’t fleeing.

\-------

Steve stood in the middle of Tony’s bedroom and was strangely disappointed. After using the bathroom, Steve decided that fair was fair and since Tony had seen his bedroom, Steve deserved to see Tony’s. But now that he was actually inside Tony’s bedroom, he realized that he shouldn’t have bothered. Because Tony’s bedroom was depressingly impersonal.

The room was dominated by the frankly ludicrously sized bed, but had basically no other furniture. There was one other door in the room that led to a spacious, neatly organized closet. One of the walls was filled with floor to ceiling windows that showed a great view of the city, but the other three were bare. There were no pictures, no mementos, not even any books strewn around the room. In short, there was nothing to suggest than actual person lived there.

Steve crossed his arms, disgruntled. This room was being supremely unhelpful and telling him nothing new about Tony. Also, the neat, coolly modern room seemed… off somehow. Steve got the impression that Tony didn’t actually spend a lot of time in here. And if Tony wasn’t here very often, then where did he spend his time?

The next door in the hallway that Steve opened held the answer. Steve stepped into what must have been Tony’s lab or workroom and promptly felt his jaw drop. The room was spacious, but it was practically filled to the brim with _things_ \- cluttered benchtops, countless tools, floating blue screens, and actual _robots._ Tony’s lab looked like it had popped straight out of a science fiction movie. It was amazing.

And unlike Tony’s bedroom, this room looked messily lived in. It seemed like Tony spent as many hours as possible inside the lab. It was vaguely shocking. Somehow, Steve had never pictured Tony actually enjoying and working diligently on his engineering projects. Steve had always just assumed that Tony kind of… coasted on his genius and natural talent. It was pretty sobering to so clearly see evidence to the contrary.

Steve walked over to a benchtop and picked up what looked like a metal arm. The inside was full of wires and gears and Steve quickly realized that it was a prosthetic. Steve took another quick look around the lab, this time searching for something specific. He didn’t find it. Steve saw multiple different devices and schematics, but he couldn’t see a single weapon.

“Like what you see?” a sardonic voice asked from behind him and Steve jumped and whirled around to see Tony lounging against the doorframe.

“T-Tony!” Steve stuttered, scrambling for something to say that might justify why he was standing in the middle of Tony’s lab.

Tony prowled forward until he was standing directly in front of Steve. “Everyone else went home. Imagine my surprise when I realized that you had left for the bathroom about half an hour ago and never returned. Just what exactly are you doing giving yourself a tour of my apartment?” Tony spoke softly, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Steve tried to keep from blushing and crossed his arms. “So you’re free to wander through my apartment whenever you like, but I can’t do the same to yours?” Steve asked defensively.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “But I thought what I did was ‘wrong.’” Tony’s voice curled mockingly around the word “wrong.” “And you never do the wrong thing, do you, Saint Rogers?” he scoffed.

Steve felt anger flare hotly. Tony always knew just what to say to make Steve lose control. And because Steve was pretty drunk (and so was Tony, now that Steve thought about it - he just seemed to be hiding it a bit better), he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, “Yeah, well, you have the power to turn any saint into a sinner.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “It’s always my fault isn’t it? Of course it is.”

“Yes. You make me crazy, I don’t…” Steve trailed off, not sure how he was going to finish the sentence. But he didn’t need to because Tony interrupted him, his voice seething with barely restrained rage.

“You self-righteous hypocrite. You like to act like you’re so much better than I am, but you’re the one that decided to hate me within 30 seconds of meeting me. You started this and if you tell yourself anything different, you’re delusional.”

Steve recognized the truth behind Tony’s words and tried to bury any guilty feelings bubbling to the surface. Steve might have started it, but Tony definitely hadn’t wanted to end it. “But you let it continue! I tried to apologize, I tried to make it better, but you weren’t having it!” Steve thought it was a fairly valid point.

Tony scoffed and crossed his arms. “I might have accepted if you had been sincere. But no. You stood there, looking down your nose at me and apologized like you were condescending to do me a favor. It was humiliating.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Excuse me for hurting your precious ego with an apology that wasn’t up to your standards. It wasn’t intentional, I assure you - I’m just allergic to rich, entitled douchebags.”

Tony pointed at him, “There it is again… ‘rich.’ You hurl that word at me like it’s an insult.”

“It is when you have more money than god and don’t do anything worthwhile with it!” Steve practically shouted. A distant part of him was muttering that he shouldn’t be riling Tony up, that just earlier today he had been wishing that he and Tony could be friends. But he was drunk any self-preserving instincts he had had temporarily deserted him. And it felt good to finally yell at Tony, to get everything off of his chest.

“This again? And you think I’m arrogant. But you’re the one that thinks you’re so much better than I am, you just hide it better. But it’s there, in your head, that smug feeling of superiority because you think I have no morals and standards while you have enough to write your own set of commandments.”

“I don’t think that!” Steve protested.

“Yes you do, but have you ever stopped to consider that mine are just different from yours? Or that maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do?” Tony said in an infuriatingly calm tone of voice. Like he was right and Steve was wrong. Which might actually be true.

“You’re infuriating,” Steve declared out of a lack of anything better to say.

“You have no sense of humor,” Tony fired back.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Steve protested.

“Nothing, it just feels good pointing out your flaws. You could do with some humbling,” Tony said smugly.

“You’re the one with the infinitely large ego,” Steve pointed out hotly.

“Well you’re a judgmental asshole.”

“Really? We’re going to keep doing this. Fine. You’re an entitled narcissist.”

“Unfairly prejudiced moron,” Tony retorted, carefully enunciating each word.

“You’re a dick.”

“That was terribly unoriginal,” Tony drawled, eyes shining with… something that may have been badly concealed amusement.

“Yeah, well, I’m tired and kind of drunk and this argument is taking a lot of effort,” Steve said, throwing his hands in the air, exasperated with everything that was Tony Stark. Why couldn’t Steve ever get this _right_? Why couldn’t he and Tony just figure out their shit?

“So I win?” Tony asked imperiously. And like hell was Steve letting Tony win this.

“No. Want a creative insult? Fine. Roses are red, violets are blue, I have five fingers and the third one is for you.” Steve punctuated his statement with a raised middle finger and Tony’s mouth twitched into a smile, his eyes practically sparkling.

But obviously, Tony could never let Steve have the last word. “Well, I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my ass,” Tony retorted, but this time his voice was verging almost on teasing and Steve gave into the impulse and smiled fully, warmly at Tony.

Tony and Steve grinned at each other and Steve thought they might be having a _moment_ , so of course he had to go and ruin it by opening his big mouth. “So, where are the weapons?” he asked, gesturing around the workshop. Steve didn’t even know why he said it. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Ever since he had realized what exactly was in Tony’s workshop, the question had been burning inside him, dying to be asked.

Tony’s face immediately stiffened and hardened, his indifferent mask dropping back into place. Tony shook his head minutely and turned to leave, “Screw you, Rogers, I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

But before he could walk away, Steve reached out to grab his arm. The heat from Tony’s skin seemed to burn Steve’s palm and Tony whirled around, fire in his eyes. “Don’t touch-” but before Tony could finish speaking, Steve interrupted him.

“Please.” Tony stuttered to a stop, his eyes widening.

“What?” he asked cautiously.

“Please tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone else, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just… need to know.” Steve didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they were apparently the right ones because Tony relaxed even further. Steve abruptly realized he was still clutching Tony’s arm and promptly released his grip, feeling a sense of loss.

“There aren’t any weapons in here,” Tony eventual said.

“Why?” Steve demanded.

Tony arched a brow, “Why should I tell you?”

Steve wracked his brain for a reason that Tony would find acceptable. “Because I’ll answer a question of yours. Any question. Truthfully.”

Tony’s gaze sharpened. “Interesting, very interesting. I didn’t know you had it in you, sweetheart. Fine, I accept your bargain.” Tony paused for a second, seemingly gathering his thoughts before continuing, “There are no weapons in here because I don’t do weapons work anymore. I stopped about two years ago. I purse my own projects now - alternative energy, medical technology, that type of thing. It’s not public knowledge because it would look bad if was known that the heir to Stark Industries wants nothing to do with the main function of the company.”

“Why did you stop doing weapons R&D?” Steve immediately asked, determined to get as much information out of Tony as possible. Because this… this changed a lot. It changed practically everything that he had assumed about Tony. Fuck. Steve was going to have to apologize. Genuinely apologize.

Tony smirked, “That’s a different question, babe. Our deal was one question for one question.”

“Fine, what’s your question for me?” Steve prompted, hoping it wasn’t anything too horrific.

Tony looked at him considering. “I don’t think I’m going to ask it just yet. I’m going to save it and cash in at a later date: one question you have to answer honestly.”

Steve looked at Tony with begrudging admiration, “That’s kind of evil, you know.”  
“Yep,” Tony replied, smugly.

Steve took a step closer to Tony and watched Tony’s eyes widen once more. He held Tony’s gaze and summoned his courage. “Tony, I’m sorry. I’m genuinely sorry for… well, for a lot of things. I’m sorry I judged you so harshly the first time we met. I’m sorry for the assumptions I made, a lot of them were wrong. I’m sorry for anything I’ve said that’s hurt you. And finally, I’m especially sorry for ruining your suit.” Steve tried to inject his words with all the sincerity he felt and as he spoke, he felt himself getting… lighter. Apologizing to Tony felt good, it felt cathartic. It felt like starting over.

Tony stared at Steve, his face seemingly frozen in an expression of deep shock. Steve tried to stop himself from giggling but wasn’t quite successful. “Did I break you?” Steve eventually asked.

Tony seemed to snap out of it. “And I suppose you expect me to apologize now too?” he demanded.

Steve smiled, “Well, that is usually the traditional format of apologies.”

Tony huffed, “Fine. Here it goes. I’m sorry that I was right and you were wrong.” Steve just raised his eyebrows. Tony rolled his eyes, “FINE. I guess I’m sorry for the pranks, even though they were brilliant and highly entertaining. But I stand by pretty much everything I said, I was right.”

Steve laughed. He supposed that that was the best he could hope for when it came to Tony Stark and apologizing. Tony gazed at him, eyes appraising, “You know, I think apologies are traditionally sealed with a shot or two.”

“It’s a Wednesday,” Steve protested weakly. Tony just gave him a challenging look and folded his arms across his chest. Steve sighed, resigning himself to going to class extremely hungover tomorrow.

\-------

**The next morning.**

Tony gradually drifted awake, feeling extremely comfortable. He usually never felt this good waking up. Whatever he was lying on was nice and firm and warm and… moving? Moving up and down? Last he checked, Tony’s bed definitely didn’t move. Tony cracked open an eye and confirmed that yes, he was in fact asleep on top of a person’s chest. Said chest was unfortunately covered by a T-shirt, but looked promisingly muscled. Tony ran a hand that was conveniently lying on said chest downwards. Yes. It was an excellent specimen. Tony wondered who the chest belonged too. Had he gone out last night? Had he actually let someone sleep over instead of kicking them out immediately after sex as was his usual modus operandi? And was he cuddling?

Then Tony sat bolt upright, eyes widening in horror. Because Tony had just remembered that he hadn’t gone out last night. No. Tony had stayed in, gotten drunk playing Never Have I Ever, and had a spectacular argument and sort of reconciliation with one Steve Rogers. Which meant... Tony closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to anyone that might be listening before opening them once more. Tony’s gaze trailed up a set of defined abdominals and perfect pecs to finally come to rest on an even more stupidly perfect face. Steve’s face. Tony promptly screamed, rolled, and fell off the bed.

\-------

Steve woke up to a loud shout and thump. He sat up, startled, disoriented, and resentful. He had been quite comfortable and having a really nice dream about someone with lovely brown eyes. Steve looked around blearily and realized that he wasn’t in his bedroom. He then peered over the side of the bed to find Tony Stark sitting on the floor and glaring up at him accusingly.

“Good morning Tony,” Steve said around a yawn, stretching upwards.

Tony continued to glare. Clearly not a morning person then. “You couldn’t find a different bed to sleep in?” he demanded.

“You pulled me into this bed and refused to let me get up!” Steve protested.

Tony gasped, “I would never!”

Steve barreled on, trying to recall the events of last night through the headache that was now making its presence known, “It was after the fourth apology shot. I said the room was spinning and you said we both should just lie down for a moment. I guess we fell asleep.”

Tony wrinkled his nose and looked down at himself - he was still dressed in the same clothes as last night, they both were. “Well, at least we didn’t actually _sleep_ together,” he declared and Steve was strangely offended. Why wouldn’t Tony want to sleep with him?

Tony got to his feet and rubbed his backside, “Did you actually apologize to me, or did I dream that?”

Steve flushed, “I did apologize.”

“And you also admitted that you had an irrational hatred of me because I’m rich.”

Steve smiled, “At first. But now it’s mostly because you’re rich _and_ an asshole.”

“Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle black?” Tony mused, a small smile playing around his mouth.  
“Maybe,” Steve agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Because this was teasing meant to inspire a smile rather than barbed insults created to injure. It was as if they had leeched all of the actual anger out of their relationship during their argument of the night before. It made Steve feel ridiculously happy, almost giddy. Steve wasn’t naive enough to think they had resolved everything between them, but it was a start. A good start. A foundation to build on.

“We’re friends now,” Steve declared after a moment. He thought he should clarify things, just in case Tony had any strange ideas about them going to back to disliking each other. Things had changed, Tony needed to acknowledge it.

“TAKE IT BACK,” Tony demanded immediately and theatrically.

Steve ignored him. “We are. We got drunk and bonded. That’s pretty much the guy equivalent of exchanging friendship bracelets.”

“Are you saying we can’t have friendship bracelets?” Tony pouted.

Steve just smiled. “See, we’re definitely friends.”

“No,” Tony retorted, but he couldn't seem to suppress a delighted smile. He then stretched - shirt riding up to expose toned abdominals - and winked, “But come on, we slept together so the least I can do is buy you breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE. Thanks for being so patient and waiting for this long, LONG overdue update. August was super busy for me, but I promise to update more regularly going forward. It also didn’t help that I found this chapter incredibly hard to write since in my story outline I literally just had one sentence for it: “Tony and Steve become friends.” Past-me was all like, “Future-me can figure out the details, it’s all good!” Future-me has concluded that past-me is an asshole. ANYWAYS, I hope you like it. I LOVE comments, so leave one if you feel inclined, even if it’s just to yell at me to update faster :D As always, THANKS FOR READING AND SUBSCRIBING!!!
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I know this chapter is a little sparse, but I felt like it needed to end where it ended. But NEXT CHAPTER = THE KISS #omg #finally. And it will probs be pretty long and maybe also finally contain something that will change the rating from M to E #soexcited #butnervoustowriteporn


	5. Chapter Five

**Later that day. Helping Hands.**

Steve was going to make Tony admit they were friends or die trying. After a surprisingly pleasant breakfast this morning (greasy diner food had gone a long way towards helping Steve’s head hurt less), Tony and Steve had parted ways, each heading off to class. Steve had then gone back to his apartment to shower, change, and get heckled by Bucky (for having fallen asleep at Tony’s) before heading over to Project R for a shift. Steve was mostly just glad that Bucky had no idea he and Tony had actually slept together in the same bed. Steve would never hear the end of it if Bucky became aware of that particular tidbit.

His shift at Project R was why he was awaiting Tony’s arrival at Helping Hands with coffee in hand. Also, because after seeing the way Tony had inhaled three cups of it this morning, Steve strongly suspected that coffee might be a powerful bargaining chip when it came to dealing with Tony Stark. And really, at this point, Steve was more than willing to fight dirty to get what he wanted. Which was Tony’s friendship. Steve wasn’t really dwelling why it was so important to him that Tony admit that they were friends. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Tony. And him. Being friends.

Thankfully Steve’s internal ramblings were disrupted by the arrival of Tony himself. Steve immediately straightened up from where he had been slouching against the building and grinned, “Tony! Hey.”

Tony swept off his ridiculous colored sunglasses and smiled back at Steve. “Hey there pumpkin, wanna use those overly large muscles of yours to grab some stuff I need for science hour out of the trunk and carry it in?” he asked, waving a careless hand to the car that had dropped him off.

Steve took a moment to bask in Tony’s warm greeting and smile. “Sure thing, Tony. But first, I brought you this,” Steve replied holding out the coffee from Project R, “I made it myself.”

Tony’s eyes immediately fastened on the cup with a worrying, covetous intensity. But as Tony reached out to grab the coffee, Steve pulled it back out of his reach, smiling when Tony immediately shot him a betrayed look. “You can have the coffee…” Steve said, pausing for dramatic effect, “As soon as you admit we’re friends.”

Tony glared at him, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the way the corner of his mouth was twitching. “You should know I consider withholding coffee from me to be a cruel and unusual punishment and therefore punishable under the Geneva Convention.”

“And the 8th amendment,” Steve felt compelled to add.

Tony raised an eyebrow at that, “You know, I almost forgot that you’re a huge history nerd.”

“You know, calling me a nerd isn’t making me more likely to want to give you the coffee,” Steve retorted, amused.

Tony shot him his best pleading expression, eyes wide and sincere, “Please?”

Steve _almost_ gave in, but somehow, he found the willpower to stay strong. “Nope. You know what you have to say to get it.”

Tony let out a large, put upon sigh, “Fine. Steven Grant Rogers, you and I are friends.”

Steve thought that the grin that was splitting his face was probably ridiculous, but whatever. “See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” he teased, handing over the coffee.

As soon as Tony had the cup in his hands he blurted out, “Kind of.” When Steve just gave him a confused look, Tony smirked. “We’re friends… kind of.” But before Steve could get properly outraged at that outlandish statement, Tony took a sip of the coffee and let out a frankly indecent moan of pleasure. Steve felt himself blush and was glad Tony wouldn’t notice, having closed his eyes in what was apparently an attempt to fully savor the coffee.

After a moment, Tony opened his eyes and fixed Steve with a piercing gaze, “Seriously, what do you put in this?” He then paused and smirked, “It’s the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in _quite_ a while.”

Steve resolutely ignored that piece of innuendo and any associated images of what Tony might or might not be willing to do with his mouth and responded, “Sugar, spice, everything nice.”

Tony smiled, “Alright, Bubbles.”

“Why am I Bubbles?”

Tony laughed, “Well you know - blond hair, blue eyes and pouty.”

“I am not pouty,” Steve protested, trying to keep his mouth out of what he very much feared might be a pout. “And if I’m Bubbles then you’re definitely Buttercup - you know, brunette and angry.”

Tony made a noise of outrage, before rolling his eyes and smiling. “Well fine, why don’t you unload the car then, princess, or you’ll see just how angry I can get.”

Steve gave Tony a jaunty salute and went to do as he was told. All in all, Steve thought this friendship thing between him and Tony was off to a pretty good start.

\-------

**Around two weeks later. Tony’s workshop.**

Tony sat at one of his work tables, chin propped up in one hand, his work momentarily set aside in favor of something more interesting - namely, watching Steve. Steve was sitting across the room, sketchbook in hand, laughing as he attempted to get DUM-E to hold still long enough for Steve to draw him. DUM-E was too busy preening at the attention to actually listen and stop moving. Eventually, Steve seemed to give up, turning around to share an amused look with Tony.

Their eyes met and Tony felt warm all over. Tony gave Steve a small smile in return before shaking his head and looking back down at the mess of wires and metal in front of him. Right. Engineering. Science. Things that Tony really should be focusing on instead of Steve.

It was just that considering the amount of time and energy they had spent hating each other, Tony and Steve fell together as friends kind of effortlessly. It was honestly a little alarming. Or rather, Tony found it alarming. Steve seemed as happy as could be, all smiles and boundless enthusiasm. It was kind of like having a puppy. A really cute, golden retriever puppy. With lovely blue eyes. And muscles. And nice lips that Tony kind of wanted to… Tony shook his head sharply, pushing that particular thought to the very back of his mind.

The problem was that Tony was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The past two weeks had been filled with Tony and Steve texting, Tony and Steve studying together (well, Steve studied and Tony mostly distracted Steve), Tony and Steve grabbing lunch or dinner together (Steve just kept _showing up_ places and demanding they go get food), and Tony keeping Steve company on his shifts at Project R in exchange for free coffee. Steve had even tricked (because Tony never would have done it willingly) Tony into going on a run with him. Tony had almost died and Steve had had the gall to laugh. Never again. Tony was really better suited to sitting around and looking pretty than actual physical activity.

Steve had even wormed his way into Tony’s lab, which was usually a strict no-other-people-besides-Tony zone. But it seemed like Steve was intent on breaking a lot of Tony’s rules. Steve liked to sit in the corner on the tiny couch Tony kept there, doing his own homework or drawing while mouthing along to Tony’s loud rock music.

Their time together was spent talking about anything and everything (e.g. Steve’s art, their favorite breakfast cereals, the bad young adult fantasy novel Steve had found Tony secretly reading) and a typical conversation between the two of them could probably be broken down accordingly: 40% clever (well, on Tony’s part at least) teasing, 35% good natured bickering (because Steve was wrong about a lot of things), 20% gossip (Steve knew a surprising amount of secrets about their various friends), and 5% genuine feelings (always the worst).

Tony now knew that Steve wanted to go to Law School to be either a Civil Rights lawyer or a Public Defender because all Steve had ever wanted was to _help other people_. Which Tony thought was endearingly naive and optimistic. Steve clearly had a higher opinion of humanity in general than Tony.

Tony knew that Steve loved the impressionists and liked to interject random historical trivia into regular conversations (in spite of his classic good looks and excessive muscles, Steve was actually a huge dork). Steve’s favorite breakfast cereal was cheerios and when nobody was looking, he liked to dump a spoonful of sugar into them (Steve actually had quite the sweet tooth). Steve also had weakness for country music and read mostly nonfiction, making the occasional exception for a fantasy novel (he loved Tolkien).

Tony knew about the time Steve had broken and arm and a rib fighting bullies on the playground. Incidentally, that was the same moment Steve and Bucky had become friends. And Tony knew the way Steve’s brow furrowed and the side of his mouth he bit when he was deep in concentration.

In short, Tony knew way too much about Steve Rogers.

Tony really needed to get a new hobby, and soon.

The problem was that being with Steve was easy, so easy, and it was driving Tony _insane_ because he kept waiting for everything to fall apart. For it to stop being easy. For Steve to remember that he had disliked Tony for much longer than they had been “friends.” Because Tony was arrogant, selfish, privileged. So he kept waiting for Steve to wake up one day and suddenly remember all of that and to begin putting distance between the two of them again. Because what were the chances that Steve actually, genuinely wanted to be his friend?

Tony was all cold edges buffered by a very, very thin layer of wit and sarcasm. And Steve, well, Steve was all soft warmth and genuine kindness. The more time they spent together, the more inevitable it became that Steve was going to cut himself on one of Tony’s edges. Everyone who got close did in the end. It’s why Tony held people at arm's length. It was better, safer that way, for everyone involved. But for some reason, Tony was incapable of keeping distance between himself and Steve.

Steve made Tony want to bare his soul to him. And that was dangerous. Because what sane person upon seeing the state of Tony’s soul would do anything other than run in the opposite direction as fast as possible?

So this couldn’t last. Tony couldn’t just keep being… happy. It never lasted.

“Whatcha working on?” The question came from behind him and Tony nearly fell off his stool, he was so startled. Warm hands gripped Tony’s waist and helped him keep his seat, before being withdrawn. Tony turned around to find a smiling Steve Rogers standing right behind him instead of where he had been the last time Tony had looked - sitting across the room. “Whoa there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you’ve been frowning intensely at whatever that thing is for like 20 minutes and I got curious.” Steve shot him an apologetic smile.

“It’s called an arc reactor. If I can get it to work, it’ll be a new source of clean, sustainable energy. Better than wind and solar, safer than nuclear.”

“That sounds amazing.”

Tony grimaced, “Well, at the rate the project’s going, I’ll need either divine intervention or, like, the imminent threat of death to get it working.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Steve bit his lip, pausing, before asking, “Tony, you never told me why you stopped doing weapons R&D, will you tell me now?”

Tony felt the anger and defensiveness that always came with that topic flare to life and Tony reveled in the familiar emotions, relieved. Good. Maybe an argument, a real honest-to-god, no holds barred argument, was what he and Steve needed to put that much needed space between them. It was just a matter of time before all of this shit came up again, so better that Steve have an excuse to bow out of this whole friendship thing sooner rather than later.

“No, I won’t. It’s none of your business,” Tony replied shortly and watched Steve’s face fall, his open, hopeful expression crumbling. It had been what Tony was aiming for, but instead of feeling triumphant, he felt strangely hollow.

“Why won’t you tell me?” Steve demanded, arms crossed, expression stubborn - as if he could wring answers from Tony through sheer willpower alone.

“Because ‘whys’ don’t matter. At the end of the day, they’re just meaningless words backing up meaningless sentiment,” Tony said, with a negligent wave of his hand.

“How can you say that?” There was a flush high on Steve’s cheeks, probably from anger.

Tony snorted, “Because I live in the real world - not whatever land of hopes, dreams, and optimism you apparently hail from.”

Steve looked mutinous. “So let me get this straight, you’re saying that intentions don’t matter - that we’re defined purely by our actions. That doing the right thing for the right reason doesn’t mean anything?”

“Obviously not,” Tony scoffed, “‘We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their behavior.’ It’s what you do - not why you do it - that the world cares about.”

“Yeah, well you’re shit out of luck because I happen to care about both. And I’m not dropping this, no matter what snide comments you throw my way.”

“Really now,” Tony said flatly, “Then it seems we’re at an impasse, because I’m not going to tell you.”

“You’re infuriating,” snapped Steve.

And there it was. The opening that Tony had been looking for. Tony looked away from Steve before coldly replying, “Yeah, well, no one’s forcing you to be here. Feel free to show yourself out.”

\-------

Steve struggled to understand why the answer to this one question mattered to him so much. Why couldn’t he just drop it like Tony clearly wanted him to? It was just that Steve suspected that the answer to this question - the “why” behind why Tony had stopped making weapons - might be the key to really understanding what made Tony tick. And sure, they had spent most of the past two weeks together - talking, laughing, and engaging in some pretty weird debates - but there was still so much about Tony that Steve didn’t know. If getting Tony to answer this one question was what it took for him to open up to Steve, then he _needed_ to know.

Because Steve kind of wanted to know everything about Tony.

But then Tony had looked at him, his expression stiff and forbidding - so different from all the ways Tony had looked at him in the past few weeks - and calmly invited Steve to leave.

“Feel free to show yourself out.”

The words reverberated and hung in the silence of the workshop and Steve felt them like a punch to the gut. It hurt to see this… thing (was friendship the right word? It seemed… incomplete) between him and Tony crumbling before his eyes. Why was Tony doing this? Why was he acting so… deliberately callous?

Evidently, Steve had been silent too long because Tony whirled around, hands planted on his hips and demanded, “Well? Are you leaving?”

Steve studied Tony’s expression. His poker face was good, but Steve had spent the past two weeks learning how to read Tony and there was something off about how he was acting now. And then Steve realized he had already figured it out. _Deliberately callous._ Deliberately. Tony was trying to… do what? Push him away? Test him? Steve almost smiled and then caught himself, keeping his expression neutral. It was just so very Tony. And Steve knew what he was going to do.

“You know that I grew up poor, right? I mean, I’ve never told you, but you’ve probably figured it out. My dad was never really in the picture and my mom got pregnant young. We were always struggling to make ends meet. I grew up in this tiny apartment in Brooklyn wearing secondhand clothes, playing with secondhand toys, and probably not eating quite enough. When you add all that to the fact that I liked books a lot, was small for my age, and sickly - I had asthma, scoliosis that required me to wear a brace for a bit, bad eyesight, and heart problems - well, let’s just say that my childhood wasn’t always easy. Kids can be cruel, you know. And it’s hard to do your best in school when you’re being bullied or can’t quite see the blackboard because you can’t afford new glasses.”

Steve paused before continuing. “How I grew up - it’s a huge part of why I volunteer at Helping Hands. A lot of those kids come from similar backgrounds and if I can make things even a little bit better for them - a little bit easier for their families - then it’s worth it.” Steve chuckled to himself, “It’s also why you pissed me off so much when we first met. Because you had everything growing up and it seemed like you didn’t care about those that had nothing.”

Tony’s mouth had dropped open somewhere in the middle of Steve’s story and Steve watched as Tony blinked rapidly. “What?” Tony eventually blurted out and even though Steve knew he shouldn’t be, he was really enjoying Tony’s shock. It was rare that someone got one over on Tony.

Steve gave Tony an amused smile, “Well, I told you something pretty personal about my past, so now you should feel free to tell me why you stopped making weapons.” Steve thought it was a pretty good tactic. Tony liked bargains. An eye for an eye. One confession for another.

For a moment, Tony looked even more dumbfounded by Steve’s explanation. He then shook his head and his neutral mask dropped back into place, but his eyes… well, Tony’s eyes glinted with something that might have been appreciation. “You think just because you shared a touching childhood anecdote, I’m suddenly going to tell you everything you want to know?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Steve replied with a cocky grin, lounging back against the workbench.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t actually want me to leave and you want to answer my question. You’re just… being you.” Steve was pretty sure that he had figured it out. Figured Tony out. He really wished he could do a little victory dance, because the moment certainly deserved one.

“‘Being me?’”

“You like to make people work for it… work for you, really.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Working for it?” Tony replied, reluctant amusement coloring his voice.

“Yep. I meant what I said, I’m not leaving.” Steve paused and made eye contact with Tony, trying to convey just how serious he was about this, “You’re not going to drive me away.”

\-------

Tony knew that his face must be doing something ridiculous but he honestly couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Steve’s mouth. Because seriously, what the hell? Steve needed to take his creepily accurate knowledge of Tony’s psyche and like go somewhere else. But alas, Steve seemed determined to stay here, staring at Tony with this worryingly expectant look on his face. Like he actually believed that Tony would stay and tell him what he wanted to know instead of running in the opposite direction.

 _Fuck it_ , thought Tony a little wildly. He was tired. Tired of fighting the impulse to lean on Steve. If Steve wanted to know the whole sordid story, then Tony would tell him. If Steve wanted to leave afterwards… well then fuck him.

Tony sighed and reached underneath his workbench to pull out a bottle of… tequila, apparently. Tony glanced at the clock. It was 2 PM. _It’s five o’clock somewhere,_ thought Tony with a mental shrug. He poured himself a shot and knocked it back. When he met Steve’s gaze again, Steve’s lips were pursed and turned downwards in a frown of disapproval.

Tony laughed, “Come on cupcake, if you’re going to make me bare my soul, the least you can do is let me ease the way with some liquid courage.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise (as if he hadn’t really expected Tony to talk?) but before he could say anything, Tony began to speak. He was approaching this whole “sharing his feelings” thing with the same philosophy as ripping off a band aid: it was something best done as quickly as possible.

Tony stared down at the benchtop in front of him, absently tracing patterns on it. He was pretty sure this would be easier to get through if he didn’t have to look directly at Steve. He swallowed dryly and cleared his throat. “I started designing for SI - pretty much exclusively weapons and other defensive contracts - when I was 13 and I treated it like a game. It stopped being so fun the moment I saw someone - well, a lot of someone’s - blown up with a missile that had ‘Stark’ stenciled on the side. A missile that was part of a system I’d created. That was about two years ago. I know it sounds ridiculous, but before that day I had never really thought about it before - what my inventions did, I mean. Designing weapons; it had always been an abstract concept for me, something I was doing because it was expected of me and because I wanted to make my dad proud.”

Tony took a deep, shuddering breath and glanced up at Steve. Steve’s face was carefully blank, his expression giving Tony no indication as to what he might be thinking. “I saw that footage and ran to the bathroom to throw up. I felt like I had as good as reached out and killed those people myself and I never wanted to feel that way again, so I stopped.”

There was more to the story, obviously, but Steve didn’t need to hear it. Not now anyways. He didn’t need to know that when Tony had told Howard his decision, Howard had fumed and raged, shattering Tony’s idealized picture of his father. Because Tony had spent 16 years idolizing Howard; looking up to him and wishing he could be more like him. And Steve didn’t need to know how when after all the yelling was done and Tony still wouldn’t change his mind, his and Howard’s relationship had settled into icy silence, cold formalities, and insurmountable distance. Because apparently if Tony wasn’t a tool that Howard could use, then he was next to worthless.

By the end of Tony’s explanation, Steve was nodding, still silent and apparently deep in thought. And Tony waited. For what, he wasn’t quite sure. Finally, Steve spoke, his voice soft and understanding. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. You were just a kid doing what you were told by someone you trusted.”

It made Tony inexplicably angry. How could Steve forgive him when Tony hadn’t even forgiven himself? “Don’t do that,” he said, voice harsh. “I might have been a kid but I was old enough to know better. I should have known better.”

But instead of snapping back at him, Steve just took a step forward, right into Tony’s space. Tony watched him warily, but Steve just took another step forward. And then, horror of horrors, Steve reached out and basically manhandled Tony into a hug. Damn Steve and his excessive tallness. Tony put up a valiant fight, but apparently no amount of squirming could convince Steve to let go and after a minute, Tony found himself relaxing into the embrace and felt his anger and tension draining away. It was surprisingly good, being held by Steve. It made the outside world seem just a little less awful. Apparently, this was no normal hug. This was some next-level shit. Tony strongly suspected that sorcery of some sort was being employed.

And then, in the middle of what was basically the best hug of Tony’s life, Steve murmured, amusement clear in his voice, “Not even Tony Stark can get everything right all the time. It’s okay.” And here, in Steve’s arms, Tony let himself believe that one day it might be.

\-------

**About one week later. Steve has been MIA for 36 hours. Tony is displeased.**

Bucky opened the front door to find a very irate Tony Stark standing on the other side.

“Where is he?” Tony demanded.

“Who?” asked Bucky, oh-so innocently.

Tony’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Do not mess with me right now Barnes. You know who. Where is your roommate?”

Bucky widened his eyes and pressed a hand to his chest, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I can’t believe it. Normally it’s all ‘cupcake’ this and ‘sunshine’ that, but the moment you’re mad at Stevie, he suddenly becomes ‘my roommate’ - as if I’m entirely to blame for how he turned out.”

“He left me alone with those monsters for three hours,” Tony hissed.

Bucky finally let the laugh that he had been trying to suppress slip out. It came out as more of a giggle and it really did nothing to calm Tony down. “Those monsters you’re referring to wouldn’t happen to be the lovely, adorable children you and Steve are in charge of, would they?”

Tony threw his hands up in the air, “Just tell me where he is, Barnes.”

Bucky abruptly sobered. “Look Tony, Steve’s here but he’s not doing so great right now. He’s real stressed about his thesis and law school applications, and he’s kind of been locked in his room for like three days. When he gets like this… we all mostly just give him a wide berth until things calm down.”

Bucky watched as Tony’s expression cycled through several emotions very quickly before eventually softening. Bucky watched, fascinated. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Tony Stark look like this: some weird mix of concerned, fond, and protective. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Tony look like he genuinely gave a shit about something. Tony bit his lip, “Let me in, I still want to see him.”

Bucky hesitated, not sure that Steve was up to dealing with Tony right now. Seeing his hesitation, Tony rolled his eyes exasperatedly, “Come on Bucky, if he’s actually stressed and freaking out in there and not just, oh I don’t know, watching tentacle porn, I’m not going to yell at him. I want to help.”

“Look, Tony, Steve isn’t really himself at the moment. He’s probably sleep deprived and hopped up on caffeine in addition to being stressed out of his mind, so he might say some things....”

“Please Barnes, I can take whatever Rogers dishes out. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’s yelled at me. And anyways, I plan to get him out of the apartment and turn him back into the disgustingly cheerful and earnest muffin we all know and love. So will you please just Let. Me. In.”

Tony concluded his plea by giving Bucky his best puppy dog eyes. And damn. They were pretty effective. But still… “And how exactly do you plan to do that? Steve’s stubborn on a good day and when he gets like this, well, it’s usually best to just stay out of his way until he comes to his senses and realizes he’s been acting like an insane person.” Because even though they had been best friends for over a decade, Bucky still hadn’t discovered the secret to out-stubborning Steve. He mostly found that it was easier to go just go along with Steve’s crazy plans and then deal with the messes they caused afterwards. It had worked out pretty good so far. Well, Steve and Bucky were still alive, weren’t they? That had to count for something.

Tony grinned, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” When Bucky just looked at him skeptically, Tony groaned, “Still don’t believe me? Fine. Let’s bet on it. If Steve throws me out, you win and you get-” Tony paused and looked at Bucky expectantly.

In spite of himself, Bucky was intrigued. “I get that ridiculously expensive bottle of Macallan you nicked from your dad’s alcohol stores and have yet to break open.”

Tony wrinkled his nose, “I’m so conflicted right now because I hate that you chose that but I also have to respect you for having great taste.” Tony’s expression cleared, “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. You’re not going to win. And when I win, I would like the privilege of dressing you for our next group outing… and you have to wear whatever I pick out for you for at least one hour.”

Bucky just laughed, “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal Stark, have at him.” And with that, he stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture, inviting Tony into the apartment. Bucky was already imagining the taste of truly superb whiskey on his tongue, because if no one had ever been able to break Steve out of one of his funks then what chance did Tony have?

\-------

Tony knocked on Steve’s door and was greeted with a shouted, “Go away Bucky!”  
Tony raised one eyebrow and blithely ignoring Steve, turned the doorknob to let himself in. Steve’s desk chair swung around and Tony was confronted with an extremely frazzled Steve Rogers. Steve’s hair was the untidiest Tony had ever seen and he had dark smudges underneath his eyes that spoke of a few sleepless nights. Steve also was sporting several day’s worth of stubble and it was a good look for him. Tony kind of wanted to feel that stubble against his own face, neck and… other places.

“Buck, I thought I told you-” Steve began but then stopped as soon as he saw who was lounging in his doorway. “Tony?”

Tony grinned and walked into Steve’s room, plopping himself down on Steve’s bed. Steve didn’t stop him, just followed his progress with wide eyes. “Hey babe. Surprise!”

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, clearly confused.

“Well, originally I came over here to yell at you for disappearing for three days and leaving me to the tender mercies of 30 devil spawn, but Barnes tells me you’re a little stressed, so maybe I’ll save the yelling for another date.” Tony bounced up and down a couple of times, testing Steve’s mattress and making himself comfortable.

Steve sighed, “Look, Tony, I’m sorry I had to miss volunteering today and I promise you can yell at me about it on Thursday, but I really am busy so maybe you could just, you know-” Steve trailed off, gesturing towards the door, in what was very clearly an invitation for Tony to leave. An invitation that Tony would not be taking.

“Yeah, no.”

“What?” Steve asked, incredulous.

“I’m not leaving.”

Steve huffed, clearly starting to lose his patience. “Yes you are. I have one million things to do. I have the first part of my thesis due by the end of the week and law school apps to submit, all on top of my regular homework and senior year studio art portfolio, so I really don’t have time to entertain you right now Tony.” With that pronouncement, Steve spun his desk chair back around and away from Tony. Which was very rude.

Tony kicked out a leg and pushed the side of Steve’s chair, spinning it back so Steve was facing Tony once more. That was better. Steve should always be giving Tony his full attention. Steve frowned and threw his hands up the air, clearly exasperated, “Tony-”

Tony cut him off and smiled, undeterred, “Don’t worry doll, you don’t have to entertain me. I’m here to entertain you.”

“I don’t have time for that either,” Steve snapped. “I know you’re a genius and everything, but some of us actually have to work to do well in school.”

A couple of weeks ago, a comment like that from Steve would have felt like getting slapped in the face. It would have made Tony want to lash out in defensive anger. But now, Tony was able to roll his eyes at Steve’s dramatics. “Yeah, yeah, everyone knows I just conned my way into MIT at 16 and I’m going to graduate two years early because all the professors just like my pretty face.”

Steve actually looked a little ashamed. He scrubbed a hand over his face, “Tony, I’m sorry. I just have a lot of shit going on-”  
Tony laughed, “Don’t strain yourself, gorgeous. And really, do think I don’t get it? I once locked myself in my lab for 72 hours with really very little food and less sleep in order to finish a new prototype.” Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony held up a hand, “And if I’m being honest, I probably could have finished the prototype in half the time if I had taken a real break. Come on. How long have you been staring at your computer screen, having to read the same thing at least five times in order to actually get it. I bet the words are all starting to blur together and you can’t actually figure out if what you’re typing makes any sense.”

Steve set his face into a mulish expression for a moment, as if gearing up to argue some more with Tony before he deflated, slumping back into his chair. He just looked at Tony with tired eyes and nodded.

Tony grinned triumphantly. “I knew it. Come on, you need a break, something to get your mind off of all this for a little, and then you need some sleep.”

Steve shook his head slowly, “Tony, I really don’t have time for that.”

“You didn’t let me finish! You need a break and some sleep, and then I’ll help you review everything you’ve written for your thesis or look over you law school apps. I’ll help with whatever you need me to, so you definitely have time to take a break.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “My thesis is on World War II. Do you even know anything about it?”

“That’s the one with the Nazis, right?” Tony asked, face screwed up in mock confusion.

“Tony!”

Tony laughed. “Calm down kiddo, I know things about World War II. And I know things about law school applications. And whatever I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I can figure out quickly enough. Genius, remember? Come on Steve, let me distract you, I promise it’ll be worth it.” Tony clasped his hands together and aimed pleading eyes at Steve.

Steve crumbled. For the first time since Tony had barged into his room, Steve smiled, albeit tiredly. “Fine, I suppose taking a few hours off wouldn’t kill me. What’s your distraction?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, pumpkin. Now go shower, you look horrible,” Tony replied cheerful, even though it was 100% a lie. Tony thought that Steve pretty much always looked good.

Steve laughed. He _laughed_ and cheerfully flipped Tony the finger as he grabbed his towel and headed off to the bathroom. _Nailed it. In your face Barnes,_ Tony thought gleefully.

\-------

While Steve was in the shower, Tony strolled back out into the living room, because he was bored and wanted to bother Bucky. When Bucky noticed him coming out from the hallway alone, he smiled triumphantly, clearly thinking that Steve had thrown Tony out.

Tony smirked, “Hey Barnes. Steve is just in the shower, he’ll be out shortly and then we’ll be leaving.” Tony deeply enjoyed watching the smug expression fall off of Bucky’s face to be replaced with one of pure astonishment.

“How the fuck…” Bucky trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

Tony just grinned harder, “So sad, no Macallan for you Barnes. But, on the bright side, you’re going to look amazing for our next party once I’m done picking out your clothes.”

\-------

“So, are you still not telling me where we’re going?” Steve asked as they walked down the stairs from his and Bucky’s apartment. Steve had emerged from his shower fresh faced, cleanly shaven (Tony silent mourned the loss of the stubble), and actually visibly excited about their excursion.

“It’s a surprise, sunshine.”

Steve knocked their shoulders together, smiling. “Come on, if you tell me, we can take my bike.”

Tony stopped walking. This was revelatory news. “Excuse me.”

Steve also stopped walking and turned to stare at Tony. “What?”

“Your ‘bike?’”

Steve laughed and reached out to tug on Tony’s arm, propelling them into motion once more. “Stop looking at me like that. You’ve seen my motorcycle before, right?”

“No, I have not seen your motorcycle,” Tony replied faintly as Steve steered him outside. For god's fucking sake. He really didn’t need the visual of Steve straddling a motorcycle. That would be bad for so many reasons. Mainly, because Tony had been spending the last few weeks valiantly trying not to think about Steve straddling things.

“Really? You’d probably like it. I refurbished it myself. Rebuilt most of the engine from scratch.” Steve smiled cheekily at him, “You probably could have done it ten times quicker and better, but I had a lot of fun doing it. I like working with my hands.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered under his breath. ‘ _I like working with my hands.’_ Was Steve trying to kill him?

“What was that?” Steve asked.

“Nothing!” Tony quickly responded. “But let’s clear one thing up, there is no fucking way we’re taking your bike anywhere. I am not going to sit on the back of your bike, forced to clutch at your waist like some damsel in distress Rogers.” Because let’s face it, Tony couldn’t think of a more uncomfortable (AKA uncomfortably arousing) situation than being pressed up against Steve’s back (and perfect backside) for an extended period of time.

Steve turned to pout at him, “But Tony, you said that I need to get my mind off all my schoolwork-related stress, and riding my bike always helps me relax.”

Tony glared at Steve. Seriously. Steve Rogers was a fucking piece of work and a manipulative little shit. “Fine, we can take your bike,” Tony eventually conceded through gritted teeth and Steve beamed at him, expression smugly satisfied. So. Fucking. Devious.

“Great! Now you just have to tell me where we’re going.”

\-------

**30 minutes and one extremely stressful motorcycle ride for Tony later.**

“Paintball. You brought me to play paintball.”

Tony grinned at Steve. “Yep. Paintball.”

Steve crossed his arms and looked around the indoor paintball arena skeptically, “Is this really necessary? It’s a bit ‘10 Things I Hate About You.’”

Tony rolled his eyes. “‘ _Is this necessary?_ ’ It’s not supposed to be necessary babe, it’s supposed to be fun. And don’t think I missed your little 90’s teen girl movie reference. I’m definitely going to mock you for knowing ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ well enough to remember the paintball scene at a later date. However, I thankfully hate way more than ten things about you and I definitely don’t plan on kissing you behind any bales of hay. So please kindly shut up and try and shoot me, if you think you can manage to hit what you’re aiming for, that is.”

Tony thought he was pretty convincing considering that he was lying through his teeth. Because Tony would kiss Steve literally anywhere he wanted if he didn’t think that Steve would punch him for it. Or, much more realistically, gently let Tony down while looking extremely sorry and embarrassed. But it was fine. Having Steve as a friend was good enough. Having Steve as his friend had be to good enough

Steve - oblivious to everything - grinned, eyes shining with competitive spirit, all stress and worries momentarily forgotten. “Bring it on Stark. Get me a paintball gun, you’re going down.”

And Tony was helpless to do anything besides grin back.

Yep. Everything was totally fine. Tony was _fine_. He had everything _under control_. He would just take all his other, more-than-friendly feelings for Steve and bury them deep, deep down inside. It would be hard, but Tony could do it. Before, he had focused on his burning hatred to keep himself from really wanting Steve (not that it had helped much - back then he had still wanted to kiss Steve, albeit more in a rage-make out type of way), but now that that was no longer an option… Well, whatever. It would be worth it if he could keep making Steve smile like that.

\-------

**That weekend. Saturday night. Tony has somehow been conned by Pepper and Natasha into hosting a party at his apartment.**

The door to Tony’s apartment was opened by Pepper, who leaned in to give him a quick hug. “Steve! So glad you could make it.”

Steve smiled at her and then craned his neck to look behind her, “Hey Pepper, where’s-”

“Tony?” Pepper interjected and then laughed at Steve’s startled expression. “Of course you want to know where Tony is.”

Steve grinned sheepishly and shrugged, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his head. It was perfectly reasonable to want to know where Tony was, it was his party. Steve just wanted to find him and thank him for hosting. Right away. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Steve hadn’t seen or talked to Tony since their shift at Helping Hands on Thursday and just really wanted to see him again.

Pepper laughed, “Well, Tony was sulking in his room protesting the indignity of being forced to host this party against his will, but now I think he’s somewhere with Bucky putting the finishing touches on Bucky’s outfit for the night. Something about winning a bet?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. That was news. “Bucky’s outfit? What bet?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you. Knowing Tony, it was probably something stupid and Bucky’s-”

Pepper’s sentence was cut off as Britney Spears’ ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ blared through the room and Bucky entered, wearing pretty much the same outfit that Britney had worn in the song’s music video - knee high socks, pleated skirt, and a white button down tied at the waist. Bucky’s shoulder length hair had even been done up in the signature twin pigtails braids with pink scrunchies. Once he reached the middle of the room, Bucky did a slow spin and curtsy amidst much applause, good natured catcalling, and laughter.

Steve fumbled, trying and failing to pull out his phone mostly because he was laughing so hard he was basically doubled over. But this had to be recorded for posterity. After all, one day Steve was going to have make a best man speech at Bucky’s wedding and this was exactly the type of thing that deserved to be included.

“Don’t worry, I got you covered.”

Still laughing, Steve wiped his eyes and turned his head to see, “Tony!” who had apparently made his way over while Steve had been distracted by Bucky’s dramatic entrance.

Tony grinned at him and jiggled the phone that he was holding pointed at Bucky, who was now lip synching and dancing to Britney. “Hey there, muffin. Like I said, I got you covered. I’m videotaping the entire thing.” Tony paused, before remarking contemplatively, “I’m grudgingly impressed. Barnes _almost_ pulls it off. It really takes a special kind of person to make those pigtails work.”

“That’s Bucky - pretty much shameless.”  
“Really now,” Tony purred, staring at Bucky speculatively. And Steve did not like that one bit. The image of Tony thinking about Bucky in… that way.

“Bucky’s straight,” Steve hurried to say. He just didn’t want Tony to get any ideas.

Tony laughed, “I know that. And plus, he’s not really my type.”

“I’m everyone's type, Stark!” Bucky called over from across the room.

“Nice try Barnes, but I generally don’t like my men in skirts,” Tony yelled back. Bucky cheerfully made a rude gesture in return. Tony then turned to back to Steve and winked. “Don’t worry Rogers, I’m not going to steal your best friend. Even if I wanted to, I think Tasha would probably kill me. I was just thinking about all the ill-advised bets I could probably get Bucky to agree to. Think of the possibilities!”

Steve grinned at Tony, inexplicably relieved. “Alright Tony. Now, are you going to attempt to be a proper host and show me to the drinks or are we going to stand here and watch Bucky dance?”

Tony shuddered and then slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders, “Yeah, I’ve definitely seen Barnes gyrating enough to last me a lifetime. So come on sugarplum, let’s get you drunk.”

\-------

“I don’t understand… what exactly is happening? Is the world ending? Did we all die and this is some messed up form of the afterlife?” Pepper’s voice was full of disbelief and Bucky followed her gaze over to where Steve and Tony were being the new and improved Steve-and-Tony (one word) over by the drinks bar. Tony had mixed a series of different drinks and was now perched on the counter, making Steve close his eyes and blind taste-test them, laughing whenever Steve made a particular ridiculous expression or when Steve tried drink strong enough to make him splutter.

Bucky looked at her, amused. “Didn’t you know they were friends for real now? That they drunk-bonded?”

“I mean yes, Tony told me that they had been spending time together, just the two of them, but I thought he was probably lying! And even if he wasn’t I didn’t expect… this!” Pepper gestured to Steve, who had apparently found a drink he actually liked, only to have Tony steal the cup away from him and dance backwards, laughing, as Steve tried to reclaim it.

“He wasn’t lying. They're actually friends. And real close, if what Steve tells me is true.”

“Apparently,” said Pepper, rather faintly. “Oh my god. I don’t understand how this is somehow worse than them fighting all the time. Are they always this…” Pepper’s sentence trailed off as she apparently struggled to find a word to sufficiently encompass Tony and Steve - who had moved to the couch and were sitting practically on top of each other, heads bent together as they whispered and giggled like teenage girls.

Bucky gazed at them fondly, “Yeah, it’s pretty hilarious. It’s like they’ve each found a shiny, new favorite toy and they just want to spend all of their time playing with it. It almost makes you wish they were still throwing extremely unsubtle insults at each other. At least then they didn’t ignore everyone else in the room.”

“Oh my god,” Pepper repeated, still sounding a little dazed. Then she nodded decisively, “Yep. Definitely going to need more alcohol if I’m going to have to deal with this for the rest of the night.”

Bucky watched at Steve began to poke at Tony’s side, causing Tony to laugh and try to squirm away while batting at Steve’s hand. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna join you.”

\-------

**A few drinks later.**

Tony was really great. Like the best, really. Steve couldn’t really believe that there had ever been a time when hadn’t like Tony, when Tony hadn’t been an integral part of his life. Because that’s what it felt like. It had taken a shockingly short amount of time from the moment Tony and Steve had stopped sniping at each other for them to become close; for Tony to integrate himself thoroughly into the fabric Steve’s life. They had just… clicked.

As soon as Steve had stopped looking only for Tony’s flaws, he had found it easy to see all of Tony’s good characteristics. Steve saw them, even if Tony himself didn’t. Even if the rest of the world didn’t.

Tony wasn’t perfect, of course he wasn’t. But he was better. Tony was terrifyingly smart with a razor sharp wit that constantly challenged Steve. And if he was arrogant about it, well, then the arrogance was well deserved. They hardly ever agreed on anything, but it was okay because these days, arguing with Tony was fun. Tony also happened to be startling kind and thoughtful, but you had to fight through layers of prickly defenses to get to his gooey center. How had Steve survived before he had Tony to come drag him out of his stress-fueled all-nighters and then provide hilariously helpful comments on his thesis and law school applications?

And of course Tony’s best kept secret was that he actually had a heart of gold. Why Tony hid it from everyone was a mystery. Tony was fascinating. He was a puzzle that Steve wanted to solve.

Tony was also so vibrantly alive. He was constantly in motion and being with him made Steve feel alive too. When he was with Tony it felt like there was a constant buzzing under his skin - a hum of electricity that made his nerves sing.

Tony made Steve laugh.

And Tony had such nice eyes. And a nice face. And a nice everything, really. In conclusion, Tony was great. Like so great. Bucky wandered over to where Steve was standing, contemplating Tony, and Steve felt compelled to share this monumentally important discovery with him. “Tony’s great, isn’t he?”

Bucky sighed, “For fuck’s sake Steve, I thought we were done with the whole ‘creepily staring at Stark from across rooms’ thing now that you two are such good friends and all.”

Steve frowned, “He’s talking to other people.” Steve paused to think about that and concluded, “He should be talking to me.”

Bucky burst out laughing, “Oh god, Steve. How strong did Stark make those drinks he gave you?”

“Strong?” Steve hazarded a guess. He was feeling pretty tipsy, now that Bucky mentioned it.

“I’ll say.”

Steve turned to look at Bucky more closely. “You’re still wearing the outfit Tony picked out.”

Bucky grinned, “What can I say, I just have the legs for knee socks.”

Steve gave Bucky his best skeptical look before casually asking, “So, what was the bet you lost?” He thought he did a pretty good job concealing how much he really wanted to know, but apparently not because Bucky smiled knowingly at him.

“Oh no, you’re going to have to ask Tony about it. I’d rather have you yell at him than me. And plus, I should have known better than to make a bet with Tony in the first place, he somehow never loses bets.”

“I could probably make him lose a bet,” Steve mused.

Bucky laughed, “Sure you could, Rogers.”

Steve squinted at Bucky, head tilted to the side, “That sounded like sarcasm.”

“Sharp as a tack, you are. Oh look! The people Tony was talking to left.”

Steve whipped his head around and sure enough, Tony was standing alone across the room. Excellent. “Bye Bucky,” Steve called distractedly over his shoulder as he started to make his towards Tony, Bucky’s laughter echoing behind him.

\-------

“Bucky tells me you never lose bets.”

“Why hello Steven, nice to see you again too,” Tony cooed at him, batting his eyelashes ridiculously.

Steve glanced heavenward, asking for patience, “Hi Tony. Now, about bets. Bucky says you don’t lose them.”

“It’s true, I’m very talented,” Tony preened.

Steve scoffed, “That’s not possible.”

“It’s extremely possible when you’re smart about making bets. I only make two types of bets: those I know I can win and those were I don’t care too much about what I stand to lose.” Steve harrumphed and Tony smiled, “What can I say? It’s my inner Slytherin coming out.”

Steve smiled, “Slytherin - I should have known.” Tony was pretty much Slytherin down to his bones - ‘cunning and ambition’ indeed.

Tony looked amused, “Okay, calm down Gryffindor.”

“Why do you automatically assume I’m a Gryffindor?” When Tony just gave him a look, Steve sighed, “Ugh, fine. I admit it, I’m Gryffindor through and through.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, regardless, you forgot another reason to make a bet: when what you stand to win is so good that it doesn’t matter what you may lose.”

Tony smirked, “Silly Gryffindor, what you stand to lose always matters.”

“Not if you want the other thing bad enough. Let me prove it to you. Let’s make a bet.” Steve knew it was probably a bad idea, but he was really having a hard time at the moment remembering _why_ it might be a bad idea. Hmmm. How strong were those drinks?

Tony crossed his arms, “How about no.”

Steve frowned, displeased. “Wait until you hear the terms. If you win, you get whatever you want from me. And if I win, vice versa. Think about, you could make me willing participate in whatever embarrassing prank you never got a chance to pull on me.”

\-------

Tony knew it was an awful idea. A bet with Steve with completely unrestricted terms? If he won, Steve was probably going to ask Tony some awfully personal question that Tony would be forced to answer and then they would have another earnest conversation about feelings. Which, how about no.

But.

But if Tony won… well, then he would get whatever _he_ wanted. And the possibilities were endless. It was a pretty tempting offer and it made him want to break his hard and fast rules regarding bets.

Screw it. “Fine. What are we betting on?”

“How about something simple? Something where we’ll know the outcome of by the end of the night,” Steve mused, looking around the room. “Beer pong?” he eventually asked.

Tony nearly choked on the sip he had just taken. “Excuse me?” he managed to get out amidst coughs. “Beer pong? You? Aren’t drinking games against the Boy Scout credo?”

“I’m good at beer pong!” Steve protested, brow wrinkling adorably.

Tony laughed, “Alright, then I guess it’s a bet. Winner takes all. We each get to choose our own partner, right?”

Steve nodded, glancing around, “Yeah, I wonder where Bucky wandered off to.” Steve turned back to grin conspiratorially at Tony, “We make a great pong team.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Going with Barnes? That’ll make things interesting.”

“Why?”

Tony smiled sharply, “Because I’m choosing Tasha as my partner.” Tony was playing to win and Natasha was fantastic at drinking games. She had impeccable reflexes and a freakishly high (re: Russian) tolerance for alcohol.

Steve abruptly went pale and looked at Tony with wide, frightened eyes. Steve gulped, “Oh shit,” and Tony could practically taste his victory.

\-------

**One ill-advised beer pong game later.**

Steve watched as across the table Tony squinted, cocked his head to the side, and then threw the ping-pong ball he was holding with a graceful flick of the wrist. The ball sailed through the air and landed straight in the cup in front of Steve and Bucky. The last cup on their side of the table. Which meant that Tony and Natasha had just won. Fuck. Steve’s stomach sank.

On the other side of the table, Tony whooped and threw himself into Natasha’s arms. Nat gracefully accepted the embrace before turning to smirk at Bucky and Steve, expression smugly satisfied.

Tony, on the other hand, shot finger guns at Steve while mouthing “I win” because Tony clearly had been a douchey frat boy in another life. Steve shook his head, mourning the imminent loss of his dignity because Tony would obviously, gleefully make Steve do something awful and probably embarrassingly public as his forfeit. Bucky was right, no one should ever bet with Tony. Clearly, Tony had sold his soul for the ability to win bets and Steve vowed never to be so foolish again.

Across the table, Tony was doing an impromptu victory dance while Nat rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Steve smiled. Tony was ridiculous. And if nothing else, it was at least nice to see Tony so happy - even though it came at Steve’s expense.

\-------

**An hour or two later. 3:00 AM approximately.**

“So… the bet.”

“Indeed, the bet.” Tony sat on the countertop in his kitchen, swinging his legs and watching as Steve gathered a few empty solo cups and threw them into a trash bag. He and Steve were the only two people left in his apartment. Everyone else had already cleared out, but Steve, having sobered up considerably, had stayed behind to help Tony clean up. Well, to be honest, Steve was doing most of the actual cleaning while Tony supervised from his perch on the counter. Tony figured it was his right as party host and alcohol supplier to slack on some of the cleaning duties. And he was enjoying the view whenever Steve bent over to pick something up and throw it away.

Steve rolled his eyes before turning away from Tony and grabbing more empty cups, “You know what I’m talking about. The bet. You won fair and square, so what ridiculous thing do you want me to do?”

Tony blamed a lot of things for what happened next.

He blamed the fact that handsy on the best of days, Steve, as soon as he got some alcohol in him, seemed to touch Tony a lot more. All throughout evening, whenever Tony turned around, there was Steve gripping his waist, resting a palm on the small of his back, or wrapping an arm around his shoulders. And every time Steve touched him, Tony could feel the heat of his stupidly large hands through his clothing, making him shiver.

Tony blamed the fact that Steve wore T-shirts that were at least two sizes too small for him and made his biceps and pectorals look practically obscene. It was seriously trying Tony’s patience. What was Steve doing? Perpetually shopping in the kid’s department?

Tony blamed the fact that the he had wanted Steve desperately from the moment he had first seen him. And that hating him first and befriending him second had done nothing to diminish that desire.

And finally, Tony blamed the fact that he was still a bit tipsy and lacked a filter on the best of days, because he responded to Steve’s teasing question with the first thing that popped into his mind, “A kiss. I want a kiss.”

\-------

As soon as the words left Tony’s mouth he desperately wanted to take them back. Because with six little words (“A kiss. I want a kiss”) Tony might have ruined his entire friendship with Steve. And the thought of that, of losing Steve as a friend, made Tony’s stomach roil.

Steve turned around slowly until he was finally facing Tony with wide and unblinking eyes. “What?” Steve’s voice cracked and he licked his lips before continuing, “What did you say?”

And. Okay. Shit. Tony had no idea how to make this better. But maybe, just maybe he could brazen his way through it. Tony had bullshitted his way through worse situations before. So he smirked at Steve and challenged, “I said I wanted a kiss. What? Scared? Gonna renege on our bet?”

Tony was expecting Steve to laugh it off. To flatly refuse. To roll his eyes at Tony’s ridiculousness. Steve did none of those things.

Instead, Steve walked forward, until he was standing right in front of where Tony was sitting on the counter. A series of emotions flashed across Steve’s face, too quickly for Tony to even begin to guess what Steve might be thinking. Eventually, Steve’s features settled into a sort of grim, fierce determination.

Tony opened his mouth, ready to let Steve off the hook. To lie and tell him that Tony had been kidding, that nobody had to kiss. But Tony never got a chance to say anything because a second later, Steve’s lips were on his, stopping any words in their tracks. Indeed, Steve kissed Tony and Tony ceased thinking at all.

The first brush of lips was soft, tentative, as if Steve wasn’t quite sure of his welcome. His lips were plush and silken. But then his mouth pressed more surely against Tony’s and Tony felt dizzy, as if they had been kissing for hours instead of seconds. They weren’t touching anywhere except their lips, and the kiss was soft and sweet and lovely. But then Steve’s tongue darted out to swipe along Tony’s lips and Tony parted his mouth in an aborted gasp, allowing Steve’s tongue to slide inside and everything changed.

In a moment, the kiss turned hot and desperate. Their tongues twined and slid together and desire roared through Tony in wave. Steve’s mouth was hot and perfect and Tony had never tasted anything better. Steve sucked on Tony’s bottom lip, nipping it gently and Tony shivered. He was lost, caught in the storm that Steve had created with his kiss - if something this all-consuming could be called a word as simple as “kiss.”

They kissed for what seemed like ever and it was fucking addictive, but it wasn’t enough.

Tony was greedy and he needed Steve closer. Steve was apparently thinking along the same lines because he moaned, hot and low against Tony’s mouth and his hands landed on Tony’s thighs where they were bracketing Steve’s waist before sliding up to grasp Tony’s hips and pull him into Steve’s body. Tony’s hands tangled in Steve’s hair and he arched into Steve’s grip with a gasp. Hardness met hardness and for a brief, perfect moment, Steve rolled his hips against Tony’s, sending sparks of lust though him and making his pulse thud in his ears.

Then abruptly, Steve wrenched himself out of Tony’s embrace and took stumbling step back. Steve’s hair was mussed, his lips were kiss-swollen, and his cheeks were flushed. He looked properly debauched. Steve blinked multiple times in rapid succession, lips parted and his chest rapidly rising and falling as he panted quick breaths while staring at Tony. And then, without saying a single word, Steve turned on his heel and fled from the room. A moment later, Tony heard his front door open and slam closed, leaving Tony alone in the dead quiet apartment. Tony shivered again, this time because he was cold and no longer pressed against Steve’s warm body.

Tony touched his lips wonderingly and swore he could still feel the imprint of Steve’s kiss. It was as if it had been seared into his skin. It felt like he had been marked, branded. Like anyone who looked at him would know that he had kissed Steve and that Steve had kissed him back and that it had been pretty damn near perfect.

It felt like everything had changed, like something fundamental had shifted inside him.

And then Tony felt something in his chest lurch and flip and he stared down at it, horrified. Because that had felt remarkably like his cold, shriveled heart doing something idiotic like coming to life and proceeding to _skip a fucking beat._ Tony thought about the kiss - thought about Steve - and the effect was immediate. His heart raced, pulse roaring in his ears, and Tony felt… electrified, a rushing, tingling awareness that spread throughout his body. It wasn’t just passion or desire, it was… warmth and affection and a want so fierce Tony thought it might just break him.   _Well, fuck,_ thought Tony, _how did I not see that coming?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this chapter almost killed me. As it is, it's like 4000 words too long and probably contains a lot of unnecessary stuff, but I've been staring at it for so long that I've lost all perspective (like is it even good? who knows?) so I'm just giving up and posting it. Anyways, I didn't get as far as I wanted to in this chapter, so #smut has been deferred until chapter six. My sincere apologies!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: explicit sexual content (see chapter end notes for further explanation)

**About 1.5 hours P.K. (Post-Kiss)**

Steve rolled over in his bed to glare at the alarm clock perched on his bedside table. The digital readout read 4:37 AM in bright red accusing letters. Steve groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. He was clearly doomed to stay awake for all eternity.

Steve had been trying and failing to fall asleep for the past hour because every single time he closed his eyes, his brain decided to replay every cataclysmic second of his kiss with Tony. Because he had fucking kissed Tony. Who was a guy. And Steve had liked it. A lot. Like he might even be compelled use words like “scorching” or “earth-shattering” to describe it. Regardless, the bottom line was that Steve had kissed a guy and it had been pretty spectacular. Ergo, Steve was apparently not as straight as he had previously thought.

Or was he?

Was one (thoroughly enjoyable) kiss really enough to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself? Steve figured that it would probably be pretty easy to forget about the whole thing. To just write off the kiss as a random happenstance brought on by residual drunkenness, late-night tiredness, and Steve’s pathological inability to back down from a challenge issued by Tony. The next time Steve saw Tony, they could just laugh the whole thing off and move on. Steve and Tony would stay just friends and Steve would continue to date girls exclusively and he would probably be perfectly happy.

But.

But the problem was that Steve didn’t think he wanted to forget the whole thing. In fact, Steve was pretty sure that he wanted to kiss Tony again. Because just thinking about the kiss made Steve flush all over.

And therein lay the problem. Because what if the first kiss had been a fluke? But if it wasn’t a fluke, and it turned out that Steve actually was attracted to other guys, then how was it possible that he hadn’t realized it before now?

Honestly, the whole thing was really freaking Steve out.

Wasn’t 21 way too old to be having this crisis? How had he not figured this out earlier? Like shouldn’t he have realized “oh by the way, I think dudes are hot too” during puberty, when most people figured this shit out? Should he feel different? Did being kind of gay make you feel different? Could something that fundamental have really changed without Steve noticing? Steve huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. Because maybe nothing had changed. Maybe it was something that had been there all along, but it had taken locking lips with Tony Stark to make Steve notice it.

So yeah. Steve was freaking out. He thought it was justified. But clearly, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he figured out the answers to at least _some_ of his questions. Avoiding the issue was just not going to work. Steve had to face this head-on and deal with it like the mature adult that he pretended to be. And Steve thought he knew just where to start.

A few minutes later, Steve was naked and sitting propped up against the headboard of his bed, headphones in and laptop open as he navigated to a free porn site. _There is nothing wrong with looking at porn_ , Steve firmly told himself. He was a red-blooded, young guy with needs. He wasn’t a virgin or a prude (no matter what Bucky liked to tease him about) and he was just trying to… figure some shit out. It was perfectly normal to be… curious.

Steve took a deep breath, clicked on a video and watched as two attractive, well-muscled guys - one blonde, one brunette - made out on a bed.

Yep. Steve was watching gay porn.

Both of the guys were now naked and grinding against each other as they kissed. It was all breathy moans, fingers digging into hips, and muscles bulging as they rocked together hungrily. And Steve was interested. Not just interested, he was hard - so hard. Gaze fixed on the screen, Steve watched as the brunette mouthed his way down the chest of the blonde until he was kneeling in between the blonde’s spread legs and leaning down to take the blonde’s dick into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked.

It was hot and Steve reached down to wrap a hand around his own aching cock and stroked. Steve let out a sharp breath. _Fuck, that feels good._ His eyes slipped closed for a moment and as they did, the image that flickered across his mind was of naked, dark-haired _Tony_ between Steve’s thighs, quiet for once as his perfect lips stretched around Steve’s cock. Steve’s hips snapped upward and he groaned, cock throbbing as he stroked faster, pre-cum slicking way.

Steve opened his eyes and re-focused on the video, trying to push thoughts of Tony out of his mind. Steve needed to know that it wasn’t just Tony that made him feel this way - that it was other guys too. Enough time had passed that the guys have switched positions and moved past blowjobs and on to actual penetrative sex.

Steve watched as the brunette thrust into the blond, hips moving fast and relentlessly. And the blonde loved it; neck taught, back arched, his hand furiously was working his cock as he took it. Steve had worried that he wouldn’t find this part arousing, but boy had he been wrong about that. It was definitely doing it for him. Watching two guys _fuck_ was doing it for him. Like a lot.

Steve kept fisting his cock and reached down to cup his balls with his other hand. He could feel his orgasm approaching quickly. Steve watched as the blond on screen finally came and Steve wasn’t far behind. With a gasp, Steve’s eyes slipped closed and the thought that finally tipped him over the edge, that sent him spiraling, was of fucking Tony and then of… Tony naked and smirking, leaning over Steve and thrusting into _him._ And that was it. Steve’s spine arched as came, cock twitching in his hand and spilling over his stomach.

Steve lay there panting, eyes still closed and thoughts racing. Because _holy shit_ that had been amazing. And it had cleared a few things up. The kiss hadn’t been a fluke because apparently both other guys and Tony Stark did it for Steve. But Steve was also sure that he still liked women. Thinking about their soft curves and breathy sighs made arousal stir low in his belly - just as watching two men together had.

Well then. His dick was apparently very equal opportunity. And probably not straight. A complicated fellow, his dick.

Well, Steve could do some more freaking out tomorrow. And he definitely would need to because in addition to having a minor sexuality crisis, Steve was also worried that by kissing him and then running away, he had managed to ruin his hard-won friendship with Tony. But that was tomorrow-Steve’s problem to worry about. Right now, he was finally feeling drained enough to go to sleep, so everything else could wait.

Steve cleaned himself off, shoved away his laptop, and burrowed back down into his bed, exhaustion finally hitting him like a runaway truck. Steve yawned and closed his eyes, already feeling close to sleep. His last thought before he drifted off was that he wouldn’t mind kissing Tony again, if Tony would let him.

\-------

**The next day.**

For the fifth time in just as many minutes Tony glanced at his phone which was sitting silently on the benchtop next him. It was ominously silent and blank. It had been over twelve hours and Tony had yet to hear anything from Steve since he had run out of Tony’s apartment. No calls, no texts. Nothing.

Tony felt his stomach roil and he swallowed drily, trying to focus on the mess of wires and schematic in front of him, but the only thing his mind seemed capable of thinking about right now was Steve. Angry at himself, Tony shoved aside his engineering project and thunked his head down on the benchtop. He couldn’t believe that he had managed to screw up this thing with Steve. And up until last night, Tony thought he had been doing so well too.

He had been keeping his more than strictly-friendly feelings under wraps, tamped down so as not to make Steve uncomfortable. Because Steve was straight and even if he wasn’t, he and Tony had barely managed to be friends without killing each other - there was no way that Steve would want anything more with him. But that didn’t matter because Steve. Was. Straight. And Tony had cared way too much about their budding friendship to screw things up by hitting on Steve. But obviously, because he was a human disaster with impulse control problems, last night Tony had done just that.

And now everything was awful. Because Tony could perfectly picture what was going to happen next. Tony had had plenty of experience dealing with straight guys who occasionally liked to get their dicks sucked by another guy. Not that that was what had happened with Steve, but there were parallels.

What would happen was this: Steve would avoid him for a couple of days and the next time Tony saw him, it would be in a group setting. Steve would awkwardly greet him, but would be careful not to touch him too much or be too friendly. Steve would also try to avoid spending time with Tony one on one, probably worried that Tony would try to make a move on him or something. Slowly, they would drift apart until they were once again just acquaintances with mutual friends and eventually, Steve would fall in love with some perfect girl and get his happy ever after. And it would hurt so fucking much because Tony was dangerously close to _needing_ Steve. To needing to see and talk to him every day just in order to make things brighter and better.

_But no more,_ thought Tony bitterly. Obviously, the whole “Tony and Steve friendship experiment” was done. And the worst part about the whole thing was that Steve wouldn’t be an asshole about it like most of the other “straight” guys Tony had fooled around with. Steve would just be so earnestly sorry about and uncomfortable with entire situation that he would manage to make Tony feel twice as guilty about everything.

Tony groaned and banged his head on the table a couple of times, just because. He was such an idiot. For agreeing to be friends with Steve in the first place. For goading Steve into kissing him. For having these… feelings for Steve even though they never, never would be reciprocated. The list went on and on.

Tony’s litany of self-recriminations was eventually interrupted by knocking on the front door of his apartment. Tony unenthusiastically dragged himself out of his chair and moved to open the door. It was probably Pepper coming over to make sure he was still alive since Tony had ignored all her texts from earlier this morning. It was just that Tony hadn't been interested in talking to anyone but Steve. And also he was pretty sure that if he saw Pepper, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from blurting out everything that had happened between him and Steve last night and really, the less people knew how much of an idiot Tony was over Steve, the better.

Tony trudged to the door and opened it without bothering to check who it was through the peephole. “Pep, I don’t feel-” Tony’s voiced died abruptly and he stood there blinking rapidly, trying to process what was happening. Because there, on his doorstep, looking gorgeous and smiling sheepishly at Tony, was Steve.

“Hey Tony.”

Tony stared a bit more before finally locating his voice, “Steve! Um, hi. I wasn’t expecting- Uh, do you want to come in?” Oh god. That was awful. All of Tony’s normal glibness had apparently decided to desert him when he needed it most. Tony wouldn’t blame Steve if he just turned on his heel and left once more.

But apparently, Steve was willing to overlook Tony’s awkwardness because he smiled a little and replied, “Yeah, thanks.”

Steve followed Tony inside and Tony started to head to the kitchen before he remembered just what had happened there last night and quickly veered off towards the living room. Tony perched on the edge of sofa and Steve surprised him by sitting down next to him instead of in one of the other armchairs. Silence reigned. Steve was biting his lip and looking at Tony nervously and Tony desperately wished that Steve would just talk and give some sort of indication as to how he was feeling.

Not being able to stand the silence anymore, Tony blurted out, “I’m sorry. For last night. Uh, for making you kiss me. I know you’re- I didn’t mean- Um, well, the point is… I’m sorry.” Tony winced and looked away from Steve. Hopefully Steve would just accept Tony’s horrible, but well-meant apology and they could move on and forget this entire mess.

Steve laughed a bit awkwardly and Tony’s gaze snapped back to him. Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t have to apologize Tony; I was the one that kissed you. I didn’t have to, but I did.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open. It wasn’t Tony’s fault? Was this the twilight zone? It was _always_ his fault. But if Steve was willing to let bygones be bygones… “Uh, okay. So I guess we can just forget about the whole thing?”

Steve’s expression fell a little, “Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want. But I just wanted to apologize too for, um, making things weird. It’s just that kissing you was pretty confusing for me. I, uh, really liked it.” Steve blushed and continued speaking, “I mean, you could probably tell how much I liked it. But I had never really thought about guys that way before and, well… like I said, confusing. It’s made me think about a lot of stuff, but I didn’t handle it great right after the fact. So. I’m sorry.”

Tony was dumbstruck once more. Seriously. This entire conversation was like one big mind-fuck. Because Steve was calling their kiss “confusing” instead of “horrible” or “an awful mistake.” Did that mean that Steve might not be quite as straight as he professed to be? That Steve might actually consider letting something happen between them? And once the thought was in Tony’s head, he couldn’t focus on anything else. Because last night’s kiss had been mind-blowing and if there was even a miniscule chance that he would get to have Steve again, even if it was just for one more kiss, then Tony would take it, consequences be damned.

And so Tony blurted out, “You could kiss me again, if you wanted.” The question hung in the air between them and Steve stared at Tony, wide-eyed with surprise. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Tony quickly assured Steve, desperate to do away with any objections Steve might have, “It could be just friends helping each other out - a onetime thing to help your, uh, confusion… if you want.”

Tony waited on tenterhooks for Steve’s answer, but he shouldn’t have worried. Because after a few moments, Steve’s shocked expression morphed into one of determination. And then Steve was moving forwards, erasing the space between them and capturing Tony’s lips in kiss.

\-------

Steve had come to Tony’s apartment with zero expectations. After spending the morning thinking and worrying about the entire situation, Steve hadn’t been unable to come up with any answers. All that he knew was that he probably wasn’t straight and that he needed to talk to Tony as soon as possible and make things okay between them. So Steve had come over, mostly just to apologize. Steve certainly hadn’t expected Tony to offer to kiss him again.

In fact, Steve had been pretty sure that the whole thing last night had been a joke that had gotten a little out of hand. Because Tony could have whoever he wanted so why would he want Steve? But the moment that Tony had made his suggestion - for them to kiss again - Steve knew that he wanted it, wanted Tony’s lips on his again and wanted it badly. So Steve had firmly told the part of his brain that was whispering all the ways that this was a horrible idea to shut up and leaned forward to take what Tony was offering before he could change his mind.

This time, when their mouths met, there was no uncertainty or hesitation, just a scorching burn that threatened to destroy everything in its path. Steve’s hand curved around Tony’s jaw and Tony’s mouth parted easily for him, allowing Steve’s tongue to explore Tony’s lips before dipping inside his mouth for a deeper taste. Tony kissed like he did everything, boldly and with style; Steve couldn’t get enough it, of Tony’s lips, of the hot, slick slide of their mouths. It was a revelation.

Tony’s hand on Steve’s waist flexed and tightened, pulling Steve closer and Steve was completely on board with that plan. He ran his hand down Tony’s side and gripped his thigh, tugging.

Tony broke away from their kiss and raised an eyebrow at Steve, “Yeah?”

It figured that Tony was going to be a little shit about this. Steve nodded and in a flash Tony was up and straddling his lap, grinning as his hands pushed into Steve’s hair and he connected their lips once more. Steve gripped Tony’s hips as Tony thrust his tongue between Steve’s lips, his angle above Steve giving him an impossibly deep slide into Steve’s mouth before he pulled back to bite playfully at Steve’s bottom lip. Clearly, Tony was not fucking around with this kiss and Steve loved it.

Tony sucked on his bottom lip for a moment before diving back in. Their tongues met and twined hungrily in a way that was pure sex and Steve rapidly felt any control he might have had over the situation slipping away. He felt like he was on fire. It was as if Tony had set every single nerve ending in his body ablaze. It was without doubt the most mind-numbingly hot kiss that Steve had ever been a part of and it was with _a guy._ And right now, Steve could really care less. He just wanted more - more of this, more of Tony - and he wanted it desperately.

Tony broke away from Steve’s mouth to lay a searing trail of kisses and nips up the column of Steve’s throat, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Steve’s head tipped back against the couch as a low moan was ripped from his throat. Steve’s hands on Tony’s hips tightened and pulled him closer, needing Tony pressed up against him instead of just hovering over Steve like he currently was. Hardness met hardness and finally Steve had some relief on his aching cock. And then abruptly, Tony stilled - he stopped moving, stopped kissing, stopped everything. Which was completely unacceptable.

Steve opened his eyes and glared at Tony who was looking down at him warily.

“Are you going to freak out now?” Tony asked cautiously.

That caused Steve’s mouth to quirk into an amused smile, “Do you want me to?”

Tony glared at him, “No, obviously not. But-” Tony paused, looking uncertain, “What do you want?”

And since Steve wasn’t quite capable of giving a coherent answer at this juncture, he just blurted out what was running on loop through his mind, “More.”

That caused Tony to grin triumphantly down at him, like Steve had just presented him with a winning lottery ticket. Apparently, Tony was just as caught up in this as Steve was. “Fantastic,” he purred as he reached out to push against Steve’s chest, sending him sprawling sideways on the couch, back into the corner. Then Tony slid his leg in between Steve’s and Steve groaned at the renewed pressure on his cock.

Tony smirked, “Yeah, that’s it sweetheart,” and placing one hand on the back of the couch and another on the armrest behind Steve’s head, rolled his hips down creating a filthy grind between their bodies. Steve went light headed with pleasure - it was that good. Needing to touch, Steve grabbed ahold of Tony’s waist before sliding his hands back to palm Tony’s firm ass, pulling him down more forcefully even as Steve rolled his own hips up to meet him, making Tony gasp and utter a succinct, “Fuck.”

And Steve could probably die happy just doing this, rutting against Tony until they both came, but it still wasn’t quite what he wanted. Reluctantly, he gripped Tony’s hips hard, stilling their motion and causing Tony to look down at him with hazy, pleasure-clouded eyes. Damn, Tony looked fantastic like this - pupils blown, hair mussed, and lips swollen and red.

“Why’d you stop?” Tony asked, breathlessly.

“Because I still want more.” This time Steve was the one pushing Tony, causing him to flop backwards on the couch. Steve then stood and stripped out of his shirt. Tony’s eyes went wide as he looked Steve over and he licked his lips as if he really liked what he saw. It made Steve feel all kinds of smug and he trailed his hands down until the rested at the button of his jeans. He glanced down at Tony and raised a questioning eyebrow. Tony nodded enthusiastically and stood up to strip out of his own shirt. And Steve didn’t really know what he was doing, or where this was going, but he did know that it was probably going to feel fucking spectacular.

Steve was momentarily distracted by the sight of Tony shirtless. His body was unmistakably masculine - all pert, flat nipples, tan skin and lithe muscle - but it didn’t change the fact that Steve wanted to run his tongue over every inch of it. Tony noticed him looking admiringly and preened before his gaze dropped down to Steve’s pants, which were unbuttoned and unzipped but still hanging on his hips. “Well?” Tony prompted his brows raised in challenge and Steve grinned before shucking off his pants and underwear. He should have known that sex with Tony would be filled with as much sparring as their conversations.

Tony’s gaze trailed greedily over him as he stepped out of his own pants and finally, they both were naked. Steve’s eyes took in the miles of exposed, smooth skin before latching on Tony’s flushed and straining erection. _Fuck,_ he swallowed heavily as reached down to stroke his own cock, _I want that._ And that was definitely new. Steve had never thought he would see the day where he was gazing longingly at another guy’s dick. Whatever, Steve was rolling with it.

Tony’s gaze darkened as he watched Steve stroke himself and then he grinned and stretched his arms above his head, muscles shifting enticingly underneath his skin, before trailing a hand down his chest, stopping to pinch and roll a nipple between his fingers before moving the rest of the way down. “You just gonna stand there and watch, babe?” he asked with a cocky smile.

Steve continued fisting his cock and smirked back at Tony, giving it as good as he got, “Well, the view is quite nice. And let me just say, the pictures online do not do you justice.”

Tony let a surprised huff of laughter. His eyes gleamed as he walked towards Steve until he was standing right in front of him. Steve could feel the heat radiating from Tony’s body. “Yeah, well, I told you to use safe search,” Tony murmured before reaching up to tug Steve’s head down, their lips meeting in another blistering kiss that was made just that much better by the press of Tony’s bare body against his.

And then Steve wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but as they both pressed closer, trying to bring as much of their bodies into contact as possible, they stumbled and fell, and a moment later, they were both down on the floor. Tony was sprawled on his back and Steve was on his knees in between Tony’s thighs. Tony laughed and stared up at him with dancing eyes and Steve was helpless to do anything but smile back at him.

But as Steve lowered himself down, settling against Tony’s groin, Tony’s laugh quickly turned into a gasp of pleasure and his hips rocked up causing their cocks to slide together. It was an entirely new sensation for Steve, feeling Tony’s naked, hard, leaking shaft against his, but each time they moved together, hips grinding, sparks of pleasure jolted through Steve, making his eyes want to roll to the back of his fucking head. He wanted to feel like this forever.

“Fuck baby, so good” Tony murmured, his hands sliding down Steve’s sides and making him shiver. Somehow, Steve found the strength to pull back, because if this one moment was all he was going to get from Tony then he wanted to touch, to explore.

Sitting back, Steve gazed down at Tony who was naked and flushed and panting beneath him. “Come back down here,” Tony invited, his eyes full of promise.

Steve smiled slightly and shook his head, “Nope.” He then spit into his palm before reaching forward to finally wrap it around Tony’s hard, straining cock. Tony’s hips snapped up, and he closed his eyes, biting his lip on groan.

“Good?” Steve asked as he slowly stroked Tony’s length, getting used to the weight and warmth of another guy’s prick in his hand and watching the erotic roll of Tony’s body and the lust that clouded his features. It made Steve feel so good - so fucking powerful - that he could provoke this kind of response in Tony. And in that moment, Steve had the crazy thought that he could spend the rest of his life watching Tony come undone beneath him and never get tired of it.

“Fuck yes,” Tony replied before he grabbed Steve and yanked him back down on top of him, their lips colliding in a rough kiss and Tony’s tongue greedily sweeping inside his mouth. Steve could feel his own neglected cock trapped between their bodies and shifted, bringing their shafts back into contact. And then, in a stroke of pure genius, Tony reached down and wrapped his hand around both of them and squeezed, and this time it was Steve closing his eyes and emitting a punched-out groan.

Tony smiled smugly and rolled his hips, creating a hot friction against Steve’s throbbing cock as he pumped his fist around both of them. Every movement made Steve gasp as arousal surged through him in an unending wave. It was really fucking good. Astoundingly good. And then, obviously, because Tony was Tony, he started talking.

“Yeah angel, let me hear you. God you should see yourself, you look fantastic like this. So perfectly ruined and just for me.” Tony’s words dripped sex and Steve felt himself flush hotter. And really, Steve should have realized that Tony would talk all the way through his orgasm unless his mouth was otherwise occupied.

But as always, Steve refused to let Tony have the last word and managed to gasp out, “You’re getting off on it, aren’t you. On ruining me - on being the first guy to touch me like this, to mess me up.”

Tony’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening again. “Fucking filthy, petal,” he praised, eyes gleaming, “Didn’t know you had it in you.” And he punctuated his words with another firm squeeze of his hand that was absolutely brilliant.

Steve could feel himself edging closer towards coming with every hard and sticky slide against Tony. It was all just so overwhelming, the press of Tony’s muscled body against him - so different from a girl’s - the novel but perfect sensation of their cocks moving against each other in Tony’s calloused grip, and Tony’s low, rough voice whispering filthy praise in his ear.

Steve leaned down to capture Tony’s lips in a kiss, but as they both got closer and closer, their kisses became increasingly sloppy, until they were just panting against each other’s mouths, sharing stuttered breaths. “Shit, Tony,” Steve panted raggedly, “Just fucking finish me already.”

And it was as if Tony had been waiting for Steve’s permission. Surging up, Tony flipped their positions so that Steve was now flat on his back and Tony was leaning over him, grinning. “Anything for you, kitten,” he said with a wink before giving Steve a quick, hard kiss on the lips and trailing a series of kiss and gentle bites down Steve’s chest, making him squirm in anticipation.

And then, wasting no time at all, Tony licked over the head of Steve’s cock before taking it into his mouth and sucking, his hand jacking the part of Steve’s shaft that he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Steve’s back arched in pleasure and he let out something that might have been a gasp or curse or a plea for Tony to never stop. It was all too much, the sight of Tony between Steve’s legs, reality mirroring fantasy as he looked up at Steve, cheeks hollowing and lips strained around the girth of Steve’s cock, and the hot, wet heat of his mouth - Steve couldn’t hold off any longer. Steve shuddered as his climax roared through him; pure, unadulterated pleasure obliterating everything in its path and leaving him dazed as he came.

Tony’s only response was to suck harder, swallowing everything that Steve gave him. After a moment, Tony pulled off of Steve with a wet pop, a self-satisfied smile curving his lips as Steve lay there, panting and trying to find the will to move. But apparently, Tony didn’t need Steve’s help. In one fluid motion, he moved up to straddle Steve’s waist, one hand braced on Steve’s chest as the other moved quickly over his own, still hard cock.

His eyes were dark with lust as he stared down at Steve,“Shit, sweetheart, that was so hot. You tasted so good and the sounds you made-”

Tony’s words were cut off as Steve pulled Tony down for a kiss, tasting himself on Tony’s tongue and finding it unbearably hot. Tony allowed the kiss for long, languid moments before he ended it with a nip to Steve’s lips and sat back up. Holding Steve’s gaze, he continued to work his cock, hand speeding up and chest heaving as he raced towards his own climax. Steve reached out to cup Tony’s balls and seconds later, as if all he had been waiting for was Steve’s touch, Tony’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open in a gasp as he came, come shooting across Steve’s chest as stroked a final few times.

And then, as if he were a puppet who strings had been cut, Tony shifted off Steve and collapsed on his back on the ground next to Steve, skin flushed and breathing ragged.

After a moment of both of them lying there, trying to catch their breaths, Tony asked “So?”

And Steve wasn’t really in a mental place where he could form full sentences so he just grunted. Fuck. Steve had basically just had the best orgasm of his life and it was with a guy. A hot as fuck guy, but still a guy. And he wanted to do it all over again, pretty much immediately. So that made things pretty fucking crystal clear.

Tony rolled so he was propped up over Steve and smirked at him, “Still confused? Because I gotta tell you, all of that was kinda gay.”

Steve started to laugh and Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. Steve rolled his eyes and dragged Tony’s head down into a kiss that Tony quickly melted into, shutting him up quite nicely. Steve was definitely going to have to use that tactic again. Breaking the kiss, he grinned at Tony who was looking down at him with heavy lidded eyes before swiping his thumb across Tony’s lips and replying, “Yep, pretty fucking gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This chapter is shorter than normal, but it contains smut so it balances out??? Idk, *shrugs.* Also, this is only my second time writing smut, so it's probs not going to be perfect and you have my apologies for that. But the only way to get better is with practice, so here I go! Anyways, thank you as always to everyone that has read and reviewed. You guys are awesome and a huge part of the reason I keep writing :D
> 
> Finally, a note regarding the explicit sexual content: As promised at the beginning of this fic, I have officially changed the rating from M to E. Also, I warned at the beginning of this chapter about explicit sexual content, but from here on out, pretty much every chapter will contain it so I won’t be warning on future chapters. If you continue reading, do so with the knowledge that there is a decent amount of sex ahead! I also won't be warning about specific sex acts, but if you have specific questions you can always email me at lelantusfics@gmail.com


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential chapter warning: some touching/kissing while one of the characters is asleep.

**Later that week.**

“Steve. STEVE.”

Bucky snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face and that, combined with his increasingly loud voice, was enough to jolt Steve out of his daydreaming. Steve guilty tore his gaze away from Tony (it had drifted over to him somewhere in the middle of Bucky’s last rambling sentence) and re-focused on Bucky. “Yeah?”

“Are you listening?” Bucky asked, amused.

And no. Steve had not been listening. Instead, he had been staring rather intently at Tony’s lips and remembering exactly how they had felt underneath his. It was quickly becoming a problem. Because Steve couldn’t get this… thing with Tony out of his head and it (and Tony) managed to distract him with alarming - and inconvenient - frequency.

“Ummm,” Steve replied intelligently.

Bucky laughed good naturedly, “Yeah, okay. What I was saying before you completely zoned out was that we’re all going out this weekend to Shield and you should come.”

Steve frowned a bit, “I don’t know, clubs aren’t really my thing.”

“But everyone’s going to be there - Clint, Bruce, Thor, Jane, Darcy. And me and Nat aren’t workin’ this weekend soooo,” Bucky trailed off, looking at him hopefully.

Steve hummed noncommittally. It would be nice to see everyone but he really, really didn’t want to do it at a club - which is what Shield turned into on weekends. Clubs were just so - loud and dark and filled with people who always tried to get Steve to dance.

Bucky’s gaze sharpened. “And Pepper’s even convincing Tony to come,” he added slowly.

And before Bucky even finished his sentence, Steve found himself replying, “Yeah, okay, I’ll come.”

Bucky smiled triumphantly.

\-------

Further down the table - Tony, Steve, Bucky, Nat and Pepper were all sitting at a big table at Project R, studying - Tony was having a similarly coercive conversation with Pepper.

“Pepper, light of my life, I would do anything for you, you know that,” Tony drawled, “That being said, I absolutely cannot go out to a club.”

Pepper frowned disapprovingly at him, “But you love clubs.”

“Obviously I love clubs. They’re filled with two of my favorite things: alcohol and attractive people who want to dance with me. But me and clubs are on a break. We’ve both decided that it's best if we see other people. It’s devastating, I know, but it’s really for the best-”

Pepper shoved him playfully, “You really can’t come?”

“I really shouldn’t come,” Tony responded and knew immediately that he had made a fatal mistake.

Pepper’s eyes gleamed, “‘Shouldn’t?’”

Oh shit. Tony could already see that this was a battle that he was going to lose. He sighed, “Yeah, shouldn’t. Because if Howard finds out that I’m out partying it won’t be good.”

Pepper looked at him sympathetically. “Tony, obviously I would never want to get you in trouble, but I think it would be good for you to get out and interact with some people that aren’t us,” she said, waving her hand around to encompass their group of friends.

“Pepper, I am positively scandalized. Are you suggesting that I should go out this weekend and hook up?” Tony replied gleefully, widening his eyes and pressing a hand to his chest in mock-shock.  
Pepper rolled her eyes, “Obviously that’s where your mind would go. But fine, it that’s what it’ll take to convince you.”

Tony glanced over at Steve, who was laughing at whatever Bucky was saying, before focusing back on Pepper and making his decision. It would be good for him to have a distraction. Tony deserved this and Howard could take his arbitrary restrictions go fuck himself. Tony smiled cheekily, “You’re right Pep, as always. I’ll come out this weekend and make sure my ability to charm complete strangers hasn’t faded.”

Pepper smiled back at him, “Good, I’m glad. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone special.”

Tony’s gaze drifted back to Steve and he murmured, “Yeah, maybe.”

\-------

Okay, so here was the problem. It had been about a week since Steve had gone over to Tony’s apartment to apologize and had instead accidentally, kind of ended up having sex with him. It had been a week since basically Steve’s whole perspective on life shifted and yet, somehow, nothing was different. Because even though they had seen each other naked, his and Tony’s relationship hadn’t changed at all.

Steve didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t what happened. The day after their hookup, he and Tony had met up to get coffee and study together, and everything had been completely… normal. Their conversation and banter had been as easy as it always was and there had been no mention of what had happened the day before. And every interaction they’d had since then had been much the same. Nothing that Tony had said or did indicated that he even _remembered_ their little tryst. So their friendship remained firmly intact and apparently they were just going to completely ignore the fact that they had had sex.

Except, well, Steve _couldn’t_ ignore it. And god, had he tried. Because clearly Tony wanted to move on and forget what had happened between them. So Steve had tried to stop thinking about it - tried to stop picturing and reliving every touch and taste and sound, but he just _couldn’t_. Steve wasn’t exaggerating when he had described sex with Tony as a revelation, because it was. What happened between them had been surprising and remarkable and astoundingly good and Steve couldn’t forget about it and couldn’t ignore it because he wanted it to happen again.

And therein lay the problem. Because even though Steve wanted Tony, he was pretty sure that Tony didn’t feel the same way. Steve knew from Bucky and Pepper that Tony definitely didn’t do relationships and usually didn’t sleep with the same person more than once. And when he had offered to let Steve kiss him, Tony had made it clear that it was a “one-time thing” and just “friends helping each other out.” If Tony had been as affected by this thing between them as Steve was, then wouldn’t he have said something instead of acting like their kiss and everything that followed had never occurred?

So all the evidence seemed to point to the conclusion that Tony didn’t feel the same way about what happened. And that sucked. Because what had been basically the best sex of Steve’s life had apparently been just another random, unremarkable hookup for Tony. And Steve didn’t really know how to deal with that. How was he supposed to move on when all he could think about was Tony?

\-------

Tony needed to stop thinking about Steve. Thinking, dwelling, obsessing, _whatever_ , Tony just needed to _stop_ or he was going to go insane. Because he and Steve had - holy shit - _slept together_ . Most days, Tony still couldn’t believe that it had really happened because actually being with Steve had been better than all of his wildest daydreams and fantasies put together. Steve had been gorgeous and uninhibited and he had kissed Tony like he _meant it_ \- with a focused, determined passion that had left Tony devastated.

Tony vacillated between being incredibly grateful for having had the chance to sleep with Steve and being extremely angry for letting it happen in the first place. Because Tony had done it knowing that it would only be one time and that it would probably ruin Tony for sex with anyone else. Which it had - ruined Tony for sex with anyone else, that is. And so, clubbing. Tony was going to go out this weekend and do his damnedest to find some way (or rather, someone) to take his mind off of Steve, because nothing good could come of Tony continuing to fixate on what had happened between them. Tony needed to get over it, get over Steve.

Because there was no possible future there, between him and Steve.

Tony was smart enough to know that.

It had been a one-time thing; a chance for Steve to work out the kinks in his sexuality and now Steve was going to go out and find some nice boy to date and fall in love with. Because he definitely would find someone, Steve was literally every guy’s (and girl’s) walking wet dream. And Tony was going to have to sit by and watch it happen with the knowledge that it was all his fault because he had been the one that had stupidly kissed Steve and turned him bisexual.

Tony just hoped whoever Steve eventually fell in love with was good enough for him because Steve deserved the best. Tony was definitely not a “nice boy.” Tony was an emotionally stunted human disaster.

It had been unimaginably difficult, spending the week acting like nothing had happened between them when all he had wanted to do was kiss the smile off of Steve’s lips every time Steve teased him. It had been difficult, but necessary. Because Steve deserved to move forward without any awkward confrontations and the less Tony talked about the whole thing, the quicker he would get over all these messy emotions. Or at least, that was the hope. Tony really, really needed to get rid of all of these feelings. They made doing ordinary things, like looking directly at Steve, hurt way too much. So really, pretending like nothing had happened was better for everyone.

And Steve was apparently on board with the whole “ignoring it” thing because he hadn’t brought up their amazingly ill-advised hookup either. And honestly, if anything, the ball was in Steve’s court here. Steve was the one who had just realized he liked dick. Steve would have had to be the one to make a move if he was interested because Tony didn’t want to pressure him into something that he might not be ready for. Ugh, whatever. It was all a moot point anyway because why would Steve be interested in anything more than a one-time hookup with Tony? People were never interested in more than that when it came to Tony and usually, that was totally fine.

Tony had never felt the all-consuming need to have someone over and over again, to be someone’s everything, so one-night stands had suited him just fine. Tony had never really wanted a relationship before - they had always seemed like too much work. But, if Tony were being honest with himself (which he generally wasn’t, as a rule), if he _allowed_ himself to want a relationship, then he knew he would want one with Steve.

\-------

**Saturday night. Shield.**

Steve walked into Shield and paused to scan the mass of people on the first floor, looking for familiar faces as he adjusted to the dim lights, thumping music, and loud conversations swirling around him. On weekends, Shield shoved all the tables on the main floor out of the way, creating a small dance floor and leaving the bar at the back and the booths on the walls as the only places to sit. Additionally, Shield also opened up its large basement, turning it into a second, bigger dance floor with louder music than on the first floor.

Steve quickly spied their group and made his way over to a booth in the corner where he was greeted by Thor’s enthusiastic bellow, “Steven, you have arrived! Let us celebrate with a shot!”

“Hey guys,” Steve said, cramming himself in next to Natasha on the last available inches of bench space and looking warily down at the shot that Thor had pushed in front of him, “I don’t know-”

His protests were cut off by an already tipsy Darcy banging on the table and yelling, “Shots, shots, shots!”

“Yeah buttercup, you’re already late, so you definitely need some shots to get you on the same level as all of us.” Steve looked up to find Tony grinning at him from further down the table. As soon as Steve met his gaze, Tony winked and threw back his own shot. And really, what else was Steve supposed to do other than take his own? He never could walk away from any challenge of Tony’s.

Steve downed the shot with a small cough and grimace (shots were not his forte) and to thunderous cheering and applause from the table.

\-------

**A few hours later.**

Steve fought his way back from the bar and eventually made it back to their booth, drinks in hand. “Vodka tonic for you Tasha, a long island ice tea for Darcy, an old fashioned for Buck, and a diet coke for Bruce.” Steve’s offerings were met with a chorus of thanks and he collapsed back down into his seat, thankful to be sitting after half an hour spent pushing his way through the masses of people to reach the bar.

Steve glanced around the booth and noticed that in his absence, a majority of their party had disappeared. “Where did everyone else go?”

Natasha took a sip of her drink and then pointed, “Thor and Jane are over on the dance floor. Pepper ran into some friends from one of her classes and went to sit with them over there. Clint-”

Darcy jumped in, adding gleefully, “Clint is over in the corner making out with Coulson.”

Steve blinked a couple of times, “Isn’t Coulson-”

“Nat, Bucky and Clint’s boss, also known as the owner and manager of Shield? Yep,” Darcy said, lips popping around the “p.”

“Good for him?” Steve hazarded.

“I’ll say,” replied Darcy, “Clint’s been mooning after him for ages.” Darcy was sitting nestled next to Bruce, who had his arm around her shoulders, which was definitely a new development.

Natasha jumped back in, glaring at both of them. “As I was saying, Clint is _otherwise occupied_ and Tony went downstairs with some guy who asked him to dance.”

Steve needed a second to process that, but once he had, he decided he didn’t like it. The thought of Tony with some other guy - it just felt _wrong_. Steve stood up and announced, “Uh, I’m just going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” The restrooms were downstairs and if Steve just happened to run into to Tony... Steve turned around and started to walk towards the stairs and so missed the assessing look that Bucky shot at his retreating back.

Steve made his way down to the basement and was immediately greeted with music twice as loud as that upstairs and a dance floor packed with people. Steve stood at the edge of the room and scanned the crowd looking for - and there, there was Tony dancing, hips swaying to the beat of the music.

Shit, Steve hadn’t realized when they were all sitting down, but Tony was wearing a simple white t-shirt along with honest-to-god black leather pants. And they shouldn’t have looked good, in fact, they should have looked ridiculous. But of course since it was Tony wearing them, they didn’t. They hugged Tony’s slim legs perfectly, showcasing their lean musculature. And when Tony turned around. Well, the leather did frankly obscene things to Tony’s already exceptional backside. Steve was so not mentally prepared to deal with this.

And then, as Steve watched, some guy came up behind Tony and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling Tony back into his body. Tony went with it, body moving with the one bracketing his, his lips curving up in a small smile in response to whatever the guy was whispering in his ear. Steve watched Tony dance with some random guy and _hated it._ He hated the fact that this guy was the one touching Tony and he detested the idea that Tony might go home with him; that later tonight, Tony might be kissing someone else - someone that wasn’t _Steve._

Steve had been wrestling with this thing between him and Tony for the past week - trying to decide what to do and how to maybe move on. But the moment he watched some other guy’s hands wrapped possessively around Tony’s hips, all those carefully thought-out plans went right out the window. Steve saw red as jealousy flared hotly through him. In a split second, Steve made his decision. He wasn’t going to get over it, he wasn’t going to move on. No. Steve was going to have Tony again. Yep, Steve was going to seduce Tony Stark. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?

\-------

Tony closed his eyes and just tried to feel. He was dancing with a hot guy who was clearly interested in him and everything was fine. It was more than fine, it was good. It was what Tony needed even if it wasn’t necessarily what he wanted. And if when he closed his eyes he could imagine it was someone else behind him - Tony’s eyes flew open. No. He was determinedly not thinking about a certain blonde, excessively muscled someone.

And then - “Can I cut in?” Tony whipped his head around because that voice had sounded suspiciously like person Tony was resolutely not thinking about. For a brief moment Tony wondered if he was hallucinating but no, there was Steve, standing with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“Um, what?” the guy Tony had been dancing with (Lance? Lucas?) replied intelligently.

Steve leveled him with an impressively hostile gaze, “You can go now.” Tony’s mouth dropped open.

Liam (?) took a step back from Tony with his hands raised, “Sorry dude, I didn’t know he was taken.”

Steve continued gaze rather murderously at Levi before jerking his head to the side and gritting out a terse, “Leave.” Logan (??) took one good look at Steve’s face and scampered, leaving Tony to gaze dumbstruck at Steve in the middle of the dancefloor. Because had that actually just happened?

Steve took a step closer to Tony, expression softening, “Tony-”

But Tony was finally over some of his shock. “What the hell was that Steve?” Tony demanded, cutting Steve off.

Steve looked away guiltily. “I don’t know. I just didn’t like… it.”

“What the actual fuck, Steve.” What right did Steve have? Tony was down here trying his damnedest to get Steve out of his head so _of course_ that was when Steve would decide to show up. Fucking Steve Rogers.

Steve ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I know. Just - were you going to go home with him?”

Tony felt anger blaze through him. He couldn’t deal with this right now. “I don’t have to answer that,” he spat out and made to push past Steve, fully intending to get the hell away from Steve and out of this godforsaken club.

But before he could get away, Steve’s hand shot out to grab his wrist and with one tug, he spun Tony back around to face him and pulled him close, until they were practically pressed together, hip to hip, chest to chest. Steve’s other hand landed on Tony’s waist and moved down Tony’s side to his hip, fingers edging underneath the edge of Tony’s t-shirt to brush his skin and Tony couldn’t stop himself from shivering as sparks from that one tiny touch raced through him. Tony’s eyes slipped closed. God, he was so fucked.

Steve’s breath was hot against Tony’s ear as he whispered. “I’m sorry, just - don’t go. And don’t dance with him, or anyone else. Stay. Stay with me.”

\-------

Tony held his gaze and sparks flew. His eyes were alight with anger? frustration? challenge? Steve couldn’t tell. After a moment, Tony turned away and Steve felt his heart plummet. So that was that. But then Tony stepped backwards and arched into Steve’s body, one of his arms reaching up to twine around Steve’s neck. And Steve didn’t wait a second before plastering himself against the length of Tony’s back, his hands splaying across Tony’s hips and tugging him firmly into Steve’s body.

The music pulsed and their hips rocked, bodies rolling sinuously together as they danced. Well, if you could call what they were doing dancing. Steve personally thought this might be a little too X-rated to be called something as innocuous as “dancing.” Steve didn’t really dance as a rule, but right now, he would do pretty much whatever to keep Tony close.

They were surrounded by people on the dance floor, but Steve would be damned if he was going to concentrate on anything or anyone else when he had Tony pressed against him. He loved the feeling of Tony’s body against his. They fit together perfectly and it felt right - holding Tony like this.

Tony’s head was thrown back against Steve’s shoulder, neck arched, and Steve couldn’t help himself. He ducked his head down for a taste, pressing a kiss to the skin there and then darting his tongue out for another taste when Tony let out a small, punched-out noise and tilted his head even more to the side, giving Steve better access. Steve tasted the salt of Tony’s sweat and something sweeter that was fundamentally Tony and tightened his grip on Tony’s hips, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

\-------

Tony felt completely surrounded by Steve - the hot line of his body against Tony’s back, his mouth on Tony’s neck, large hands on Tony’s hips. It was overwhelming and awesome and Tony never wanted it to end. Tony had no idea what was happening or why but he honestly didn’t care so long as Steve kept doing what he was doing with his hips.

Because goddamn, how had no one ever mentioned that Steve could dance like this? The filthy grind of their bodies together was blowing Tony’s fucking mind. And then Steve’s hand, which had been on Tony’s hip, moved upwards and his fingers skimmed along the sliver of skin above the waist of Tony’s pants before two of his fingers dipped inside, sliding along the v of Tony’s groin. Tony arched as pure _want_ slammed into him and he abruptly found himself wishing that they were alone, anywhere else; somewhere where Tony could turn around and get his mouth on whatever part of Steve he wanted.

Tony’s lips parted and Steve took that as an invitation to dive inside for a taste. Tony sucked on Steve’s tongue as his hand curled in Steve’s hair, keeping their lips sealed together. Kissing Steve somehow felt like coming home and jumping off a cliff at the same time and Tony’s skin felt hot and too tight.

After a moment, Steve broke their kiss and Tony could hear his heavy breathing as they continued to move together. The hardness pressed against his backside told Tony just how much Steve was enjoying what they were doing and caused a triumphant thrill to run through him. Then, Steve’s lips brushed Tony’s ear and he murmured, “Don’t go home with him, go home with me.”

It was probably going to end in disaster, in heartbreak, and in fire and brimstone, but Tony was beyond caring. Because if he got to be with Steve again then wasn’t it worth it? And so Tony shoved aside any thoughts of future consequences (something he was unsurprisingly proficient at) and reveled in the moment, in the feeling of Steve’s arms around him. Tony grinned, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

\-------

Somehow, Steve and Tony managed to make it out of Shield without any of their friends noticing them leaving together, hands clasped together as Steve tugged Tony out of the club. One extremely fraught cab ride later (wherein Steve valiantly struggled to keep his hands to himself) and they were stumbling through the front door of Tony’s apartment. As soon as the door was closed, Tony was pushing Steve back up against it and tugging his head down so that their lips could meet in a blistering kiss.

And damn, Steve had missed everything about this - Tony’s talented lips and even more talented tongue, Tony’s warm body pressed intimately against his, and Tony’s hands gripping Steve’s hair as he _took_ Steve’s mouth. Tony’s body pressed close against his and Steve’s lips parted in a gasp as his head thunked back against the door, pleasure radiating from wherever their bodies touched. Tony took this as invitation to divert his attention to Steve’s neck, kissing and sucking hard enough to probably leave a mark and making Steve shiver in the process.

Steve had no idea why it was so fucking good with Tony, but he wasn’t questioning it anymore. He just _wanted._  “Fuck Tony, I want you so much.”

Tony paused what he was doing to look up at Steve, his kiss-reddened lips curving in a wicked grin, “Yeah, well, lucky for you, you get to have me.”

\-------

Steve blinked at Tony with lust-dazed eyes and Tony felt smug pride course through him at just how wrecked Steve looked. _He_ had done that. And really, it was just the beginning of all the things that Tony wanted to do to Steve. Speaking of which - Tony leaned up to brush one more quick kiss across Steve’s lips before dropping down to his knees in front of Steve, hands reaching out to begin unbuttoning his jeans.

“Tony -” Tony looked up through his lashes to find Steve staring down at him with wide, startled eyes.

Tony smirked, “Relax sweetheart, let me make you feel good.” Tony leaned in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the skin right above the waistband of Steve’s pants and watched as Steve nodded jerkily above him, teeth biting into his bottom lip.

In seconds, Tony had Steve’s pants unbuttoned and unzipped and - Tony arched an amused eyebrow, “Commando? Really Steve?”

Steve blushed harder, if that were even possible, “Um-”

Tony grinned and pulled out Steve’s flushed and straining cock, slowly stroking it as Steve’s head tipped back against the door once again and his eyes fluttered closed. “Not that I’m complaining mind you. I’m all for easy access, especially if what I’m trying to access is as nice as yours is, babe. Fucking gorgeous, petal. God, you have no idea. I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you since the moment I first saw you.”

\-------

Steve was burning up, nerves singing. And although Tony’s hand on him felt astoundingly good, Steve wanted _more._ He wanted exactly what Tony’s smart mouth was promising and he wanted it now. Steve found the willpower to open his eyes and glare down at Tony who looked sinfully good down on his knees, face tipped up towards Steve, and a self-satisfied smile at home on his mouth. “Then why don’t you stop talking and _do it._ ”

Tony’s smile grew and instead of the smart-ass reply Steve was expecting, Tony leaned in and licked Steve’s cock from root to tip. Steve’s hand flew out to grip Tony’s hair. And really, Steve had to give Tony props; that was ten times more effective a retort than anything Tony could have said. Tony’s tongue played around the head of Steve’s cock and Steve groaned. And then Tony apparently decided he was done teasing because he wrapped a hand around the base and closed his mouth around Steve’s cock, giving it a slow, indulgent suck.

And fuck. Tony was good at this - the warm, wet, _tight_ heat of his mouth as he worked it along Steve’s shaft was perfect. Steve’s cock pulsed and Tony must have felt it because he moaned around Steve’s cock, and _shit_ that was good. Steve’s hips jerked forward uncontrollably and he felt himself slide even further into Tony’s mouth, practically all the way to the back of his throat, and Tony just _took it_ , mouth opening even wider around Steve’s cock and eyes half-lidded with pleasure. And yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to last much longer.

But then Tony stopped moving altogether and Steve thought he might just die.

\-------

Tony had always liked sucking cock. Sure, he liked the feel of it - having a cock in his mouth, but what really got to him was the _power._ Tony might have been the one on his knees, but it was Steve who was losing his mind and looking absolutely gorgeous doing it. Steve’s tight grip in Tony’s hair, the weight and stretch of his shaft in Tony’s mouth, the bitter bursts of pre-come on Tony’s tongue, and the helpless sounds that Steve was making all went straight to Tony’s own achingly aroused cock. Tony pressed the heel of his palm against the bulge in his pants and moaned. Fuck, Tony was close - just from this.

And then Steve, who had been so polite up until then, rolled his hips forward, seemingly helpless to stop the motion and _fuck yes_ that was what Tony wanted. Steve, unrestrained, taking exactly what he needed. So Tony stopped moving and opened his mouth even wider, looking up at Steve in blatant invitation.

“What-” Steve’s question broke off as his gaze met Tony’s, comprehension sparking behind his eyes. Eyes locked with Tony’s, Steve’s hand in his hair tightened its grip as his hips moved forward in a tentative thrust and Tony moaned in encouragement. After that, Steve lost all hesitation. Confident hands gripped Tony’s head and directed him at exactly the speed and pace that Steve wanted and Tony reveled in it, eyes slipping closed as lust sparked through him.

And what seemed like only moments later, Steve was gasping out above, “Tony, fuck, I’m close.” Tony opened his eyes again and met Steve’s gaze right as Steve let out the most satisfying shout Tony had ever heard and came down his throat.

\-------

 _Holy shit._ Steve somehow managed to tuck himself back into his pants (which remained unzipped and unbuttoned) as he slumped back against the door to Tony’s apartment, trying to catch his breath and re-start his brain, which had apparently decided to shut down the moment Tony started sucking him. Steve blinked a few times and then looked down at Tony, who was still on his knees. Tony’s forehead was pressed against Steve’s hip, his own breath coming in pants as he scrambled to lower his zipper and get a hand on his own, still hard erection.

Steve frowned a bit, because he wanted - and before Steve quite knew what had happened, Tony was standing up, blinking at Steve who had apparently pulled him to his feet. Any confusion that Tony might have been feeling evaporated the moment Steve finished unzipping Tony, pulled out his cock, and started stroking, thumb smearing the pre-cum that had collected at the tip. With a groan, Tony practically pitched forward, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders as he tucked his face into the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Shit baby, so good. Love your hands on me. So close.” And it figured that moment that Tony’s mouth was no longer occupied, he would start talking again. Tony continued to murmur a stream of mostly nonsensical praise interspersed with increasingly ludicrous nicknames and some quite filthy suggestions of what else Steve could do with his hands. Every time Tony spoke, his lips moved and caught against the skin of Steve’s throat, causing little shivers of sensation to rush through him.

Steve still wasn’t quite used to stroking another guys’ cock, but he liked this. He liked having Tony close and the weight and warmth of Tony in his hand. He liked the way Tony hitched his hips in little rolls into Steve’s grasp and the puffs of air on his neck as Tony gasped. And then, only seconds later, with a final stuttering gasp and Steve’s name on his lips, Tony was coming, shooting into Steve’s hand and onto his bared stomach where his shirt was still rucked up.

Curious, Steve raised his hand and licked at the come covering it. It was bitter but not bad and Steve thought that he might just enjoy blowing Tony just as much as he enjoyed jerking him off.

“Oh my god, stop. You’re going to kill me if you keep doing shit like that. I mean fuck, I know I’m a teenager, but I still have a refractory period.”

Steve looked up to meet Tony’s dancing gaze. Tony still had a flush high on his cheeks and his hair was a mess from where Steve had run his hands through. He was also wearing such an extremely smug smile that it should have been a turnoff but it was so quintessentially Tony that Steve just grinned back, helplessly endeared.

“I don’t know if you’re the one that gets to be upset here,” Steve teased back, “The first time we were on the floor and now against the front door? Really Tony? Are we ever going to do this in a bed like normal people?”

Tony laughed, bright and pleased, “Please, normal is boring. But if your self-respect is slipping princess... well, there’s always hope for round two. But first, a shower.” With that, Tony tugged off his shirt, stepped out of his pants, and disappeared around the corner, completely naked. Steve stayed where he was, unsure of whether-

Tony’s head poked back around the corner, eyebrows raised. “Are you coming?” And honestly, like Steve would give up an opportunity to see Tony naked.

\-------

Showering with Steve turned out to be exceptionally distracting. Or rather, having Steve naked, wet, and soapy in the shower was exceptionally distracting. All those muscles glistening with water… It was like a fucking centerfold. Steve’s body was unreal. What else was Tony supposed to do besides touch and maybe spend some time licking water off of Steve’s abs? Tony was only human, he only had so much self-restraint.

Well, actually, Tony had zero self-restraint so instead of getting them clean, showering together turned into languid kisses and slow, lazy hand jobs underneath Tony’s fountain showerhead. After which Tony couldn’t help giggling, “Whoops, I guess a bed will have to wait for round three.”

As they toweled themselves dry Steve looked at Tony uncertainly, “I guess I should go?”

Tony’s stomach plummeted. This was what he had been dreading - Steve leaving as soon as he had gotten whatever it was he came here for. Bending down to dry off his legs Tony looked away from Steve and remarked with faux-casualness, “You can stay if want, my bed is certainly big enough.” Which was the exact opposite of Tony’s usual post-hookup policy. But then again, Steve wasn’t just any hookup. With Steve, Tony was just hoping to keep him as long as possible. He was trying to prolong the inevitable - Steve walking out of the front door and probably taking Tony’s heart with him

Tony looked up to find Steve smiling a bit crookedly at him, “Yeah, okay.”

A wave of relief hit Tony and he grinned back, “Okay.” He then looked up and down Steve’s body with sincere, covetous appreciation. “But I’m not giving you anything to sleep in, just FYI.”

\-------

Steve woke up slowly, the morning light from Tony’s absurdly enormous bedroom windows bright in his eyes. He was spooned up next to Tony who was lying on his back, and had one arm thrown across Tony’s chest, keeping him close. Tony was still asleep and Steve took a moment to just look his fill. Sunlight played across Tony’s features and Steve couldn’t help thinking that Tony was really quite pretty, his features almost delicate with those high cheekbones and pouty lips. Of course, Tony would probably punch him if he ever heard Steve describe him as “pretty.”

Steve decided that he liked this, waking up next to Tony. It was certainly much better than the last time they had woken up together post their night of drunken bonding. This time there was no screaming from Tony and Steve’s head hurt a lot less.

Steve trailed fingers over Tony’s chest, brushing across a nipple before moving a little further downwards downwards. Tony moved a little but didn’t wake up and that gave Steve idea. Steve partially pulled down the sheet covering Tony and moved to lay a kiss on Tony’s chest. Tony shifted again and Steve sat up, watching Tony blink awake, eyes still hazy with sleep.

Steve smiled at him, “Morning.”

Tony propped himself up on his elbows smiled blearily back at him, "Hey."

Steve reached out to brush his fingers down Tony's chest again and this time didn't stop before reaching Tony's half-hard cock. Tony gasped and arched into the light touch. Steve grinned and asked conversationally, “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to suck your cock.”

Tony blinked at him, eyes wide and startled before nodding jerkily, collapsing back onto the pillows, and throwing an arm over his face, which Steve took as tacit permission. Steve smiled to himself and pulling off the rest of the sheet covering Tony, he leaned in to take Tony’s cock into his mouth.

See, Steve figured that if Tony was still groggy and sleep-soft for Steve’s first blowjob, then that really lessened the expectations for Steve’s performance. Steve sucked tentatively around the head and felt Tony harden further in his mouth which was surprisingly erotic. He then moved to take Tony deeper into his mouth, sucking again, and Tony’s hips moved and a hand flew out to grip Steve’s hair. “Fuck, Steve,” Tony rasped, voice still heavy with sleep and Steve pulled off of Tony’s cock with a wet pop that he probably should have been embarrassed about but that he just found hot.

Tony blinked rapidly, “Uh-”

Speechless-Tony was quite cute and Steve slowly stroked Tony’s spit-slick cock causing Tony’s hips to buck up again before asking, "Everything okay?"

Tony glared at him for a moment before finally saying, "It will be when you go back to what you were doing."

Steve grinned and bent down to get Tony’s cock in his mouth again again, liking the stretch and how he had to work for it. Steve couldn’t really take much of Tony’s cock yet, but judging by the sounds Tony was making - these half gasps, half groans - he clearly didn’t care.

Steve tried to imitate what he liked from blowjobs, tongue flicking around the crown of Tony’s dick and hand stroking whatever part of Tony’s shaft he couldn’t cover with his mouth and Tony seemed to appreciate it. He writhed on the bed, hands clenched in the sheets, and only Steve’s arm across Tony’s hips kept him from bucking up into Steve’s mouth. Steve found it unbearably arousing, making Tony come undone with just his mouth.

Never in a million years had Steve ever thought that he would love sucking cock - that he would be fighting to fit as much of Tony as he could in his mouth and relishing every burst of pre-come across his tongue. And yet, here he was blowing Tony and getting off on it.

And then, after a particular enthusiast suck, Tony was coming without warning but with a loud moan and a breathy, “Steve.” Steve swallowed, mostly out of surprise, but he didn’t quite have the mechanics down and some of Tony’s come ended up painting his lips. Steve sat up and wiped the come off of his mouth with his thumb before sucking it clean with a contemplative hum. Just like last night, the taste wasn’t bad. Steve would even go so far as to say it was strangely appealing, tasting Tony so intimately.

Steve gazed down at Tony who was breathing heavily and looking up at him with a dazed, punch-drunk expression. And before Steve could say anything, Tony surged up and tackled him to the bed. Steve fell backward with Tony over him. Tony’s mouth descended on his in a fierce kiss and Tony’s hand began to fist Steve’s aching hard-on. It only took a few strokes for Steve to arch up and come, the taste of Tony still on his lips as his climax roared through him, Tony expertly making every nerve in his body sing.

Steve’s orgasm seemed to hit Tony equally hard and he collapsed down onto Steve’s chest. They both lay there for a moment, a comfortable silence between them. As Steve’s racing heart slowly began to calm he let out a pleased sigh and raised a hand to begin tracing random patterns on the expanse of Tony’s back. Tony shivered slightly before pressing a light kiss to and nuzzling against Steve’s chest where he was resting.

Steve felt totally relaxed and content; happy to just hold Tony and cuddle, possibly forever. Steve closed his eyes and contemplated going back to sleep for a bit but then his living blanket decided to sit up, leaving Steve cold. Steve opened his eyes to glare grumpily at Tony who was sitting back on the bed and pulling the sheet over his lap. Tony’s expression had closed off; all signs of carefree happiness gone. Steve quickly sat up, “Tony-”

But Tony cut him off, “What is this Steve? What exactly are we doing?”

Steve sucked in a breath. He knew he had to tread carefully here because he was pretty sure that one wrong word from Steve would send Tony running. Last night, before falling asleep, Steve had come to a decision. He wanted to keep doing this with Tony, but he needed to find some way to get Tony - Tony who didn’t do relationships and didn’t do repeats - to agree. And so, “I thought - well, I thought that we could just… keep doing what we’re doing.”

Tony’s expression didn’t change, didn’t become any less guarded, and Steve’s stomach flipped nervously. Shit, he was going to screw this up. “What do you mean?” Tony asked cautiously.

Steve rubbed his palm against his thigh, “I was thinking that we could keep hooking up.” At Tony’s incredulous expression Steve hurried to add, “It wouldn’t have to be a big thing - just friends with benefits? No one would have to know and we would obviously have an easy-out clause.”

Tony’s eyes widened in… surprise? Steve studied his expression anxiously. Tony didn’t seem angry which was good. “Friends with benefits,” Tony repeated and Steve nodded.

Steve had thought a lot about it and he was pretty sure that this was the arrangement that Tony was most likely to agree to. And, well, Steve just hoped that if Tony agreed, that this thing would last long enough for him to work his… fixation with Tony out of his system. It was going to be fine. It had to be fine.

After a long silent moment, Tony eventually nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve repeated.

“Okay,” Tony echoed with a cheeky smile before shuffling forward on his knees to brush a kiss across Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve murmured against Tony’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments/kudos if you're so inclined :D


	8. Chapter Eight

**A few days later. Surprising no one, Steve and Tony are back in bed.**

Steve lay on Tony’s bed, arm thrown over his eyes and chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath post mind-blowing orgasm number… two? three? Honestly, he couldn’t remember because Steve and Tony were having a lot of sex. 

Like there was a really ludicrous amount of orgasms happening.

But how could they not when it was  _ just this good _ ?

Steve had been worried that his and Tony’s transition from friends to something more would be a little awkward, but it hadn’t been. They fit together like this just as well as they had fit together as friends. And every time they had sex it was somehow magically even better than the time before. Part of Steve had expected some of the novelty to wear off by now; some of the fire to fade. But it hadn’t. Every time he touched Tony it felt just as exciting and addicting as the first time. 

It was just so easy, being with Tony like this. 

\-------

Tony lay face down next to Steve, too exhausted to even contemplate moving even though he was slowly being suffocated by the pillow his face was pressed against. 

Steve was going to kill him with copious amounts of enthusiastic, athletic sex. 

That Steve was apparently very interested in having.

Well, at least Tony would die happy.

Tony hadn’t been quite sure that Steve was actually going to follow through on his whole “friends with benefits” concept. But boy oh boy had he followed through and _thoroughly_ too. Tony was pretty sure that since Steve had proposed the arrangement, not a single day had passed without him and Tony having at least one mutual orgasm.

So yeah, they were definitely friends with benefits. Or more like friends with extra, extra benefits. Not that Tony was complaining. Honestly, Tony was pretty much willing to agree to anything that allowed him to keep seeing Steve naked. Steve was really his best self when he was naked, Tony thought. And sure, it wasn’t exactly what Tony wanted, but it wasn’t Steve’s fault that Tony had all of these… feelings.

Feelings like wanting to fall asleep every night next to Steve and then wake up with him every morning. Feelings like wanting to cook breakfast together, exchanging lazy kisses and casual touches as they moved around the kitchen. Feelings like-  _ no _ . Tony rapidly cut off that train of thought because the only thing worse than having these awful, unrequited feelings was spending time actively thinking about them. 

And it would really kill his post-orgasm buzz.

It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Tony had caught  _ emotions _ . Well, it was Steve’s fault in the sense that he had caused the feelings by being stupidly gorgeous, sneakily hilarious, and an all-around distressingly good person, but Steve shouldn’t have to  _ deal _ with said feelings. So Tony had made a decision: he was done agonizing and he was done dwelling. Because what did it matter that their relationship meant more to Tony than it did to Steve? 

Things were good, Tony and Steve were  _ good _ . Sure, it would be awful when things between them ended (because Tony was under no illusions here, there was no way Steve would ever be insane enough to want something real with him), but what was really the worst that would happen? Steve would put a stop to their thing and Tony would end up just a little more broken than he was now. 

When it happened, Tony would probably feel like his heart had been ripped in half, but it didn’t matter because Tony was just so done thinking about it. The future would bring what the future would bring. Tony was done obsessing. Right now, he just wanted to keep being happy. And Steve - Steve made Tony happy; happier than he could remember being in a long time.

So Tony found the willpower to scoot and then roll over until he landed mostly on top of a naked, sweaty Steve.  _ Perfect _ . Steve let out an “oof” and moved his arm off of his face to blink lazily at Tony as his other hand started to skim lightly up and down Tony’s back. 

Tony grinned down at Steve before leaning in to kiss him unhurriedly, lips moving together lazily. After a few minutes of indulging himself, Tony broke the kiss with a gentle nip to Steve’s lip and asked, “Shower and then I’ll walk you to work? You can repay me for the fantastic blow job with coffee.”

Below him, Steve’s cheeks were flushed an appealing pink as he laughed, “I see how it is, you’re just in this for the free coffee. I feel so used, objectified even.”

Tony made a noise of mock outrage and tried to push himself off of Steve, but Steve just held him in place with a firm grip on his hip as he continued to laugh, “No- don’t- I’m sorry Tony, I didn’t mean it.” Steve schooled his expression into one resembling solemnity before continuing, “You know you’re free to use me anytime and I will obviously give you all the coffee you want because you’re just that pretty.”

Tony rolled his eyes because Steve was actually a ridiculous person before looking down at him calculatingly, “All the coffee I want? Does that mean you’re going to give me the actual number of espresso shots I ask for instead of the number you thing is ‘good for me?’” Tony was so serious about this. Steve needed to cut that shit out. Tony’s body was like 85% coffee and if the proper levels weren’t maintained, Tony was pretty sure he would perish.

Steve dimpled at him, “Just for today.”

Tony beamed, he was going to get all of the shots and never sleep again. “Okay, deal,” he replied and obviously, as per tradition, he had to seal their gentleman’s agreement with a kiss.

\-------

**Saturday morning.**

Steve let himself into Tony’s apartment with the key that had mysteriously appeared on his key ring a few days ago. When Steve had found it and raised a questioning eyebrow at Tony, Tony had waved a negligent hand and rolled his eyes, “Don’t get your panties in a twist cupcake, I just hate having to leave my workshop to answer the front door. And it’s not like you’re going to use it for nefarious purposes, you boy scout.”  
And although Steve really wanted to prove Tony wrong, he was indeed not using the key for nefarious purposes. Instead, Steve was here to make sure that Tony was still alive because Steve had woken up that morning to a series of moderately concerning texts from Tony.

Tony Stark [3:41 am]:  _ Do you think there’s a store still open that will sell me a fire extinguisher? _

Tony Stark [4:02 am]: _ Ignore that last text. It was a false alarm? Nothing/no one is on fire probably/anymore. _

Tony Stark [4:16 am]:  _ What if I built myself a robot butler/AI to do all the things I don’t want to do like put out fires and answer the phone? _

Tony Stark [4:18 am]:  _ im doing it _

Tony Stark [4:19 am]:  _ He’s gonna have a british accent ive decided _

Tony Stark [5:23 am]:  _ alkjsdfjjjjasad _

Steve Rogers [8:31 am]:  _ FIRE? _

Steve Rogers [8:35 am]:  _ Tony?? _

Steve looked around as he closed the door. Everything  _ seemed  _ fine, but this was Tony - appearances could be deceiving. “Tony?” Steve called out.

“LAB” came Tony’s muffled shout from a few rooms away.

Steve walked into Tony’s lab to find Tony alive, bright eyed (he must have napped at some point, probably around 5:30 am when his texts became gibberish), and working on three different holographic screens at once. Tony turned towards him and Steve was able to see that he was (thankfully) in one piece, if a little sooty.

“Hey,” Tony said, waving away the screens and sending Steve a brilliant smile that caused something in his stomach to flutter just a bit. “I’m glad you’re here! Come on, I’m having inventor’s block and I need to get out of the lab and you’re a great distraction.”

Tony bounced over to Steve and started trying to tug him out of the lab as Steve laughed. “Wait a second, I just came over to make sure you were still you know,  _ alive _ , since you weren’t answering my texts and there seem to be some concerning scorch marks over there,” he said pointing to a corner of Tony’s lab where DUM-E was still holding vigil, fire extinguisher in claw.

“Aw, were you worried about me sunshine?” Tony cooed.

“Nah, not really,” Steve said lightly, reaching up to rub at a streak of soot? grease? that was on Tony’s cheek.

Tony unconsciously leaned into the touch even as he replied, “Liar. You came to rescue me from the alleged fire that may or may not have happened.” Tony fluttered his eyelashes, “My hero.”

Steve smiled at him fondly, “Well, regardless, I’m not sure I can do anything today, I have work to-”

Steve’s sentence was cut off by Tony, “Nope, not happening. Come on, we’re going to go be tourists.” Tony tugged on his arm again and started to walk away but Steve refused to go anywhere just yet so Tony rebounded backwards and settled for standing in front of him and holding Steve’s wrist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the sensitive skin there.

“Tony, we live in Boston, I don’t think we  _ can  _ be tourists,” Steve pointed out, quite reasonably he thought.

“Please, have you actually done half of the touristy Boston things? I’ll bet you’ve spent 90% of the past three years locked in a library studying instead of going outside and enjoying yourself. I’m frankly amazed you even have friends.”

Tony had a point but Steve refused to admit it. “I did all of the American history things! Like the Freedom Trail.”

“So you did all the boring stuff.”

“Boring?!” Steve yelped. American history was  _ not  _ boring. Steve was a  _ history major _ . 

Tony smirked, obviously aware of how much he was pushing Steve’s buttons, “Yeah, boring. I don’t think that doing the Freedom Trail is allowed to count as ‘enjoying yourself.’ Come on, we’re going downtown to the waterfront.” 

“Why?” Steve asked suspiciously. He thought the suspicion was justified considering that Tony’s idea of a good time usually involved breaking several laws.

Tony grinned, “You’ll see when we get there. Don’t worry babe, we’ll have fun. And if you get really bored, I promise we can find some tea and throw it in the harbor. Viva la revolución!”

\-------

20 minutes later Steve and Tony were standing inside the New England Aquarium.

“The aquarium?” Steve asked.

Tony smiled winningly, “Who doesn’t like penguins?”

“Only monsters, clearly.”

Tony nodded seriously before breaking into another grin, “Did you know that a sea turtle’s gender depends on the temperature of the sand that the egg is laid in? Warmer sand means female turtles and if global warming continues unchecked, the sea turtle population could be in serious danger due to a sex imbalance.”

Steve smiled back at Tony, his enthusiasm contagious. “I thought you didn’t do biology,” he teased.

“I make the occasional exception.”

“For turtles?”

“For turtles,” Tony agreed solemnly before dragging Steve to the touch tank so that they could touch stingrays.

Afterwards they began to make their way up the spiral that dominated the center of the aquarium, bickering amiably about Superman vs. Batman which they had watched together the other day (“It’s so bad that it’s good Steve!” “No it’s just bad. I didn’t know it was possible to make a car chase boring, but they managed”) as Tony occasionally spouted off random facts about marine life, half of which Steve was pretty sure were made up. 

Without really thinking, Steve slipped his hand into Tony’s. Tony almost tripped, his sentence faltering as he looked down at their intertwined hands with wide eyes.  _ Oh shit,  _ Steve thought in a panic. Obviously Tony wouldn’t want to hold his hand in public, Steve shouldn’t have assumed. Whatever they were doing, Tony probably wanted to keep it strictly behind closed doors. And it’s not like Tony meant this to be a _ date _ . Steve winced and started to pull his hand away, hoping he hadn’t just made things unbearably awkward, but then Tony tightened his grip, keeping their hands clasped together.

Steve swallowed drily but Tony just beamed at him like they held hands all the time. 

“Did you know that puffer fish have four stomachs?”

Steve let out a relieved breath, sparks fizzing in his stomach, and squeezed Tony’s hand back before lacing fingers together and replying, “I’m pretty sure that’s cows, Tony.”

Tony scoffed, “Who’s the scientist here, kitten?” casually dismissing Steve’s (extremely correct) fact checking before using their joined hands to drag Steve to the next exhibit. Tony didn’t let go and neither did Steve. It was nice, having Tony’s hand a warm and reassuring weight in his. It made him feel a little giddy.

Steve had never really been good at this, the casual teasing and touching that came with any sort of intimacy. With significant others of the past, it had always seemed a little awkward and forced, at least on his part. But with Tony, it just came naturally. Steve always wanted to be touching Tony and to just  _ be  _ with him.

Tony walked into a room and everything got a bit brighter, a bit louder. 

Steve felt a little more alive when Tony was around.

Take today for instance. Normally, on a Saturday, Steve would wake up, workout, and then spend the rest of the day plowing through schoolwork or maybe working on law school applications. That had been his original plan for the rest of today once he had ascertained that Tony was still alive. But instead, Steve was out in the city doing something new and fun that he probably never would have made time for otherwise. 

Tony had a habit of doing this - of bulldozing his way into Steve’s usual monotonous cycle of work-eat-sleep and yanking him out of it. 

Even Bucky had noticed and had consequently taken the opportunity to smugly tell Steve, “I told you so. I knew you two would be good for each other.”

They were, thought Steve. Good for each other, that was.

And when they got to next exhibit, which was entirely devoid of other people and dimly lit to make the bright tanks look more dramatic, Steve crowded Tony into a dark corner next to a tube of ethereally floating jellyfish and kissed him, just because he wanted to and because he could. Tony’s mouth was sweet and pliant underneath his and Steve was swept away by the kiss, just like he always was. Everything else - the sounds of water and the distant noise of the crowd - faded away and the only important thing in the world seemed to be memorizing the way Tony’s lips moved against his, slick and plush and inimitably kissable.

\-------

**Later that week. Project R Coffee. Tony is “studying” with Steve and Pepper.**

Steve’s foot hooked around his underneath the table and Tony almost dropped the tablet where he had totally been working on his senior capstone and definitely not wasting time designing a new red and gold paint scheme for Dum-E. Steve glanced at him quickly before looking back down at the history textbook in front of him, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile as he moved his foot up and down against Tony’s calf. 

Tony rolled his eyes and tried to untangle his legs from Steve’s but Steve refused to release Tony’s foot. After a brief but silently furious struggle, Tony grudgingly ceded the loss of his leg and watched as Steve full on grinned in victory, his gaze still trained down on his textbook. Tony shook his head slightly, trying to repress his own smile, and looked back down at his tablet. Steve’s leg was a firm and warm presence against his as he worked.

Tony still wasn’t quite used to the touching. 

After the Aquarium Hand Holding Incident of 2016 (as Tony has taken to calling it in his head), it seemed like the floodgates had opened. Steve touched him all the fucking time. Whether it was cuddling when they were together on the couch, an arm thrown around Tony’s shoulders as they walked somewhere, or a hand casually resting on Tony’s knee when they sat next to each other. In short, there was a lot of touching.

Tony had never had this before, mostly because Tony didn’t really do the whole “touching other people” thing. When he was feeling particularly maudlin (re: had drunk enough to tip him over the line from fun to a sad), he usually blamed that particular personal flaw on the fact that growing up, the most physical affection he had gotten was the occasional distracted head pat from Howard. But regardless of whatever Freudian trauma Tony may or may not have experienced as a child, the fact remained that Tony usually found too much casual touching to be uncomfortable and a little claustrophobic.

And sure, he’d touched Steve a lot way back when they both still hated each other, but that had been  _ strategic _ touching; touching because every time he had touched Steve back then, he would jump and make this hilariously constipated face. But this was not that kind of touching. This seemed like impulse touching. Like thoughtless touching. Like Steve just enjoyed reaching out and finding Tony solid and  _ there _ underneath his fingers.

It was disconcerting is what it was. Because for someone that usually found touch to be uncomfortable, Tony definitely didn’t mind when Steve touched him. Like didn’t mind  _ at all _ . If pressed, Tony might even admit that he enjoyed it. That he liked how it made him feel warm and safe and important. 

“Tony what are you wearing?” Pepper’s question through Tony’s reverie and the general quiet that had reigned at their table for the past half an hour.

Tony paused in the unzipping of his hoodie (it was a little warm in the shop) and looked down confusedly. What he was wearing was completely normal - jeans and a grey hoodie over a blue SI t-shirt. Except, no.  _ Shit _ . Tony stared down at his t-shirt and silently freaked out because while his t-shirt was blue, the white writing did not spell out “Stark Industries.” Oh no. Instead, the old Brooklyn Dodgers logo was splayed across his chest. Because this was not Tony’s t-shirt.

Steve looked up from his book and over at Tony, his eyes widening in surprise as they took in what Tony was wearing.

“I didn’t know you were a baseball fan,” Pepper said.

“Uh, I’m not?” Tony replied intelligently while silently thanking god that Steve was wearing a sweater even as he noticed the edge of a similarly blue t-shirt peeking out from underneath Steve’s collar. Tony knew that if he took off the sweater, Steve’s shirt would read “Stark Industries” in bold white letters. Because clearly they had accidentally swapped shirts in their haste to get dressed and get to Project R on time after getting… distracted at Tony’s earlier. 

Shit, Tony really needed to be more careful because he was pretty sure that the moment one of their friends suspected that something was going on between them, Steve would wig out and put a stop to their little arrangement. Which would really ruin Tony’s day/month/year/life.

“Okay?” Pepper asked. Next to him, Tony could tell that Steve was desperately trying not to laugh and Tony stomped on his foot underneath the table which only made Steve’s grin widen. 

Thankfully Tony was saved from having to come up with a coherent answer by Steve who decided to finally pull his weight in this conversation by interjecting, “I think it’s mine Pepper, I must have left it at Tony’s the last time that he let me crash on his couch.”

Pepper seemed to accept that explanation (Tony exhaled in relief) and laughed, “Typical Tony, not even bothering to make sure his clothes are  _ his _ before running out the door.”

“Well, when you look as effortlessly good as I do no matter what you wear-” Tony’s sentence cut off as he ducked to avoid the pen Pepper had thrown at his head. “Pep!”

Pepper laughed again and started to pack up her things. “You deserved it, and as fun as this has been, I have to get going. I have class soon.”

Pepper stood up and Steve waved at her, “Bye Pepper.”

“See you later Potts, I’ll barely miss you,” Tony said, arms crossed and pouting.

Pepper smiled, “Aw Tony, we both know that’s not true. See you later boys!” A moment later the door to Project R was closing behind her and Tony and Steve were alone at the table and the only two people in this particular corner of the shop.

Silence reigned for a moment before Steve started chuckling.

Tony rounded on him, “Don’t even. That was awful! And you were basically no help at all.”

Steve kept laughing and reached out to try and unzip Tony’s sweatshirt again as Tony attempted to bat his hands away, “But Tony, you just look so cute in my clothes.”

“Cute!” Tony repeated in outrage. Tony was not  _ cute _ . Rugged and manly maybe, but not cute.

Steve caught Tony’s wrists easily and tugged him a little closer on the bench where they were sitting. “Yeah, cute.”

“You know we wouldn’t have this problem if we didn’t somehow wear the same size shirts even though you’re like twice as large as I am,” Tony grumbled.

Steve hummed, “They always shrink in the wash,” before pulling Tony even closer and leaning forward to brush a quick kiss across his lips. How was Steve still alive if he couldn’t even manage to wash his own clothes properly? But that was a question for another day. Right now, Tony was focused on taking advantage of the situation to break free of Steve’s hold, slide his hands into Steve’s hair, and bring their lips together properly. Because if Steve was going to try to placate him with a kiss, it might as well be a good one.

Steve’s mouth opened beautifully underneath his and their tongues tangled together, their kiss slow and deep but full of intent. It made Tony dizzy. Steve slipped a hand underneath Tony’s - wait no,  _ Steve’s  _ \- shirt and his hand felt like a brand against the skin of Tony’s lower back. Tony’s body sang with anticipation and he was roughly five seconds away from just saying “screw it” and climbing into Steve’s lap which he definitely couldn’t do in the middle of a coffee shop so he regretfully drew back from their kiss. Steve stared at him with dark eyes and red lips. 

Fuck Tony wanted him. Tony always wanted him. It was amazing that Tony managed to get anything (well, anything apart from Steve) done these days. “Let’s get out of here?” he suggested and Steve almost tripped over himself in his haste to pack up their things.

\-------

**Thursday. Helping Hands.**

Steve sat in the back of the classroom working on his law school personal statement while Tony entertained the children with a host of robotics - including several prosthetic limbs. Unsurprisingly (given Tony’s short attention span) the actual science of today’s “science hour” had long ago fallen to the wayside in favor of just playing with the robots, Tony as enthusiastic as any of the kids.

“Hi Mr. Steve.” Steve glanced up as Emmy plunked herself down in the chair next to him with a blank piece of paper and some crayons.

“Hi Emmy. You know you can just call me Steve, right?”

Emmy looked up from where she had started drawing and appeared to think about this for a second. “I don’t think I can,” she said seriously.

Steve chuckled, “Well alright, whatever you want.” They were silent for a second before Steve asked, “Why aren’t you over playing with the robots like other kids?”

“Booorringgg,” Emmy said in a sing-song voice. “I’ve already seen them.”

“Seen them?” Steve asked, confused.

“The presti- the prot-”

“The prosthetics,” Steve filled in as Emmy struggled with the word.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I know all about them because Tony came to the hospital and gave one to my sister.”

Steve stared at her in shock. Emmy, apparently unaware of the minor bombshell she had just dropped, happily went back to her drawing.

“Emmy,” Steve asked slowly, “What do you mean that Tony gave a prosthetic to your sister?”

Emmy looked up, a little crease forming between her brows, “Margo was in a real bad accident and the doctors had to take away part of her arm and I heard my parents talking about how getting a new arm was hard so I asked Tony if he would build her one.” 

Steve blinked and blurted out, “Why did you ask Tony?”

Emmy looked at him like Steve was a little slow. “Because Tony is good at building things and he’s my friend,” she said simply.

Steve had to smile at that. “Emmy, is your sister okay now?”

Emmy smiled back cheerfully, “Yep! Her new arm is really cool. Tony even painted it pink for her,” and went back to coloring, leaving a rather stupefied Steve to stare bemusedly at Tony.

\-------

A few hours later, Steve had just finished seeing off the last kid to be picked up by their parents and came back inside to find that Tony had already put everything away in the classroom. Steve sidled up to Tony and hooked a finger through one of his belt loops, tugging him closer.

“Hey.”

“Hey sweet cheeks,” Tony dimpled back at him.

“Want a ride back to your place?” Steve asked.

“Not sick of me yet?”

“Well, I mean…” Steve trailed off and grinned when Tony smacked him on the chest.

Ten minutes and one motorcycle ride later they were back at Tony’s apartment. Tony walked into the kitchen and pulled open his drawer of takeout menus. “Are you hungry? Do you want to order something?”

Steve followed Tony into the kitchen and leaned against the opposite counter, watching as Tony dug through the assorted menus. “I heard something nice about you today.”

Tony looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

Steve nodded, “Emmy and I were gossiping and she told me that you built her sister a new arm.” 

Steve watched as Tony stopped moving, going perfectly still before he turned back around to face Steve and shrugged nonchalantly, “Well, she asked me to so…” And really, it was so perfectly Tony to try to shrug this off.

Steve smiled, “But that’s not all you did. I did some googling and read some SI press releases. What you’ve failed to mention is that you’ve also established a program to supply Boston Area hospitals with SI prosthetics at extremely discounted prices so they could be made affordable to low-income families and individuals.” 

It was incredible. In the middle of everything else - his own schoolwork, spending time with friends, volunteering at Helping Hands, helping Steve with law school applications - Tony had somehow found the time not just to build a little girl a new arm, but to set up an entire system to get state-of-the-art prosthetics (that Tony had also  _ invented _ , geez) to the people that needed them most. 

It was times like these when he was reminded just how extraordinary Tony was - and accordingly, just how much out of Steve’s league he was, but Steve quickly pushed aside those thoughts. Now was not the time.

Tony momentarily widened his eyes in surprise before wiping his face clean of any expression and shrugging again, “It’s gotten SI a lot of good PR, so...”

Steve smiled again and took a step closer to Tony, “Is that why you did it, the good PR?”

Tony crossed his arms and stubbornly replied, “Yes.”

Steve took another step closer, “And is that why you’re still volunteering at Helping Hands?”

“Yes.”

On more step and now he was boxing Tony in against the counter, gazing down at him, “And is ‘good PR’ the reason you’re so sweet with the kids. The reason you spend hours coming up with something new to teach them every week?”

Tony glared at him, “Yes.”

And now that Steve knew Tony - really knew him - he could tell that this veneer of not giving a shit about anything was just an act. Tony cared and he cared deeply. Maybe too much. It was why he acted like he didn’t. So Steve bent down and whispered in his ear, “Liar. You do it because it feels good, because you like helping people.”

And Tony was finally grinning back at Steve, his hands coming up to rest on Steve’s chest. He rolled his eyes, “If that’s what you want to believe, muffin.”

Steve hummed, “Yep, it is.” Tony was lovely and kind and generous and amazing and Steve had a sneaking suspicion that no one had ever actually  _ told _ him any of that so Steve blurted out, “Tony, you’re amazing.”

Tony thankfully took this embarrassing emotional outburst in stride and snickered, “Aw babe, it feels like only yesterday you were telling me what an awful role model I am and trying to get me to quit Helping Hands with the power of your ferocious scowl.”

Steve’s lips quirked up because Tony was endearingly awful at taking a compliment. “I will admit that my initial… reaction to you was a little harsh, but I’ve since seen the error of my ways.”

Tony nodded sagely, “It’s because you subconsciously wanted to sleep with me but still thought you were straight.” 

Steve burst out laughing at that. “Is that right?” he asked before leaning in to skim his lips up the column of Tony’s throat and gently nip at the lobe of his ear.

“Yeah it is,” Tony breathed, his head falling back and exposing the lovely length of his neck as his hands moved up to grip Steve’s shoulders tightly. “You’re getting off on this,” Tony accused, “On me allegedly being a good person.”

Steve sucked lightly at the juncture of Tony’s neck and shoulder just to see him shiver before replying, “Yeah, maybe a little.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd.”

Steve grinned against the skin of Tony’s throat before kissing it, “Are you going to stop me?”

Tony arched into him, “Fuck no.” He then tugged on Steve’s hair, angling his head up, and their gazes collided, molten want clear in both of their eyes. “Take me bed,” Tony demanded and Steve did.

\-------

In what seemed like only seconds later, they were both naked and tumbling onto Tony’s bed, Steve on his back and Tony landing on top of him in the cradle of hips, hands on either side of Steve’s head. Tony let out a satisfied moan his naked erection settled against Steve’s -  _ God that felt amazing  _ \- and he couldn’t help the involuntarily roll of his hips. Steve arched into him, his hands skimming down the length of Tony’s back and leaving sparks of sensation in their wake.

“Mmmm, feels good,” Tony praised as his hips moved in a dirty grind, “I would have done something philanthropic a lot sooner if I had known this would be my reward. Not that I want to make it seem like I’m exchanging money for your services, although I probably would-”

“Tony,” Steve’s hand palmed the back of his head, “I really think you should stop talking before you dig yourself any deeper,” and with that outrageous pronouncement he tugged Tony’s head down so their lips could meet in a fierce kiss. Steve’s mouth was hot and slick and his tongue was positively wicked and Tony still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the way Steve kissed him - as if he needed it, as if he needed Tony.

They kissed hard and messily as their bodies moved together, sweat and pre-cum slicking the way. The pressure against Tony’s cock felt fantastic and with every thrust he could feel ache and desperation building inside of him. 

Steve broke their kiss to throw his head back in a gasp, cheeks pink and eyes closed in pleasure. His nails dug into Tony’s shoulder blades, each one a pinprick of pleasure-pain that went straight to Tony’s cock. Tony never wanted to stop. He fucking loved seeing Steve like this, gorgeously undone with lust. He was perfect and perfectly  _ Tony’s  _ in these moments. 

Tony moved to hungrily suck and kiss his way down Steve’s neck and then he decided to keep going, laying a series of kisses across Steve’s chest, pausing to lick and nip at a peaked nipple. Steve’s hand flew up to tangle in Tony’s hair and he let out a stuttered, “Fuck, yes Tony, yes.” And one day, Tony was really going to have to spend time paying some serious attention to Steve’s nipples but for now...

Tony laid a few more kisses down the silky smooth skin of Steve’s ridiculously defined abdomen, briefly dipping his tongue into Steve’s navel and pausing to suck a proprietary mark on the jut of Steve’s hip bone as Steve writhed beneath him. Then Tony stopped and sat up, taking a moment to appreciate the way Steve was spread out on his sheets, sweaty and wanton and gloriously naked - Tony’s for the taking. Shit, Tony was so fucking lucky. 

Apparently not appreciating the pause, Steve opened his eyes to glare up at Tony and Tony beamed, “Yes sweetheart? Is there something you wanted?”

\-------

Steve felt flushed and desperate, like if he didn’t get Tony’s hands back on him everything was going to spin out of control. It was exhilarating, a little terrifying and a lot addictive. And in the middle of the maelstrom sweeping through him, Steve managed to gasp out “You, I want you,” in response to Tony’s question.

Tony’s eyes glinted - proprietary and satisfied - and he finally leaned down to lick a stripe up Steve’s cock. Steve’s hips bucked up but Tony just pulled back a little, eyes sparkling as his tongue licked across Steve’s slit and played around the head, seductively teasing more than anything.

Steve cursed, “Fuck Tony, your mouth,” and hauled Tony back up so their lips could collide in a blistering kiss. Tony’s tongue tangled with his as his body settled on top of Steve’s once more and their cocks became reacquainted in scorching slide that made Steve practically see stars. Tony was pressed against him chest to toe and Steve reveled in the miles of skin at his disposal. All he wanted was Tony to be impossibly closer, to feel him everywhere. Steve raked his nails lightly down Tony’s back until he reached Tony’s delightfully firm ass and  _ gripped _ , pulling Tony hard against him.

Tony gasped and his hips punched forward as his eyes fluttered closed. Steve squeezed again, his fingers edging towards Tony’s cleft, almost pulling his cheeks apart and Tony moaned, his eyes opening to meet Steve’s as he demanded, “Again.”

\-------

Steve bent his legs and the leverage allowed him to meet Tony’s thrusts more fully, fire licking across skin wherever their bodies touched. Steve’s large palms kneaded the solid muscle of Tony’s ass and as they moved, his fingers skimmed across Tony’s hole (accidentally? tauntingly?) and it felt like a bolt of lightning. Tony couldn’t help bucking forwards and Steve smiled smugly up at him. “Yeah?” he asked and Tony almost died. Because  _ fuck,  _ Tony and Steve had done a lot together, but they hadn’t done anything like this. 

Blowjobs, hand jobs, frotting and any combination therof - it was all fair game - but no one had come anywhere close to fucking anyone. A part of Tony had honestly thought that it might just be a line that Steve was unwilling to cross. That once actual penetrative sex entered the equation it would finally be the thing that made Steve shake his head and walk away saying, “Nah, that’s just too gay.” But now here was Steve fucking  _ initiating  _ it Tony felt like he might just burn up from how hot it was.

“Give me your hand,” Tony urged and moments later he was sucking two of Steve’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the pads and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked around them. Steve stared up at him transfixed, his gaze dark and intent. Tony let go of Steve’s fingers and demanded, “And stop teasing.”

Steve grinned at him, “You’re one to talk,” but he was reaching back to Tony’s ass, one hand gripping and spreading Tony’s cheeks as the other teased and pressed against the taut, sensitive skin of Tony’s hole. And just as Tony was about to yell at him again (to hurry up,  _ god please hurry up _ ), Steve slowly slid one of his fingers inside and all Tony could do was let out a punched-out groan.  _ Holy shit, fuck yes.  _

And then Steve was sliding his finger out and back in before crooking it and somehow finding the exact right spot (what the fuck had Steve studied for this?) to make Tony’s vision practically white out with pure pleasure. And he did it again and again.

“Tony, is that-”  
Tony opened his eyes to see Steve looking up with him with a faint worried crease between his brow. “If you stop, I might just kill you,” Tony gritted out and Steve’s mouth dropped open in a silent “O” of comprehension before he smirked at Tony again. And the next time he pushed into to Tony, it was with both fingers and Tony moaned before leaning down to lick messily into Steve’s mouth for a kiss. 

Steve kept fucking him like that, his long, thick, perfect fingers finding Tony’s prostate more often than not and the almost-too-dry drag of his fingers just right. Tony had always liked it a little rough - an edge of pain with his pleasure. Their bodies moved together in waves and Tony felt almost out of his mind with how good it was; how good Steve was making him feel. The pressure and pleasure built and built until reaching a crescendo and then Tony was coming.

\-------

Tony was gorgeous when he came. Having never done anything like this with previous partners, Steve had been worried that no matter how much he researched, that when the time came he might hurt Tony, that he might do something wrong. Clearly, he shouldn’t have worried. Tony had obviously enjoyed what they had done - the evidence was all over Steve’s chest - and Steve felt pretty self-satisfied. Tony collapsed next to him and Steve rose up, moving to straddle over a sweaty and panting Tony as he fisted his own still straining erection.

Steve could never get enough of seeing Tony like this, disheveled and pleasure-soft post-climax. Steve knew he was close - seeing Tony come had almost been enough to tip him over the edge. Steve gazed down at Tony and Tony watched him for a moment with hooded eyes before licking his lips and beckoning, “Come up here.”

Steve paused, “Yeah?”

Tony grinned lazily and tucked another pillow under his head, “Yeah, give it to me.”

Steve knee walked up the bed until he was straddling Tony’s shoulders and Tony leaned forward a bit to swipe his tongue across the head of Steve’s cock making him shiver. Steve rocked forward and Tony let his mouth fall open as his hands came up to cup Steve’s ass.

Steve gripped the headboard and fucked Tony’s mouth in long, languid strokes, Tony staring up at him with half-lidded eyes as his head bobbed. Tony’s mouth warm and tight and perfect around him - just like it always was - and Steve couldn’t help thinking about actually fucking Tony one day. Of how it would feel to ease his cock into Tony’s tight little hole. Steve wondered if Tony’s eyes would get the same blissfully hazy look when he got fucked as they did when he sucked cock and it was that thought pushed Steve over the edge, his climax roaring through him as he came down Tony’s throat. Tony swallowed it all down, looking extremely satisfied himself.

Steve fell down next to Tony and Tony immediately rolled mostly on top of him, nuzzling into Steve’s neck. And this part - the closeness afterwards - was almost as good as the actual sex. Tony had seemed hesitant about it in the beginning, but now he was just as quick as Steve to initiate cuddling. Steve tightened his arm around Tony.

After a few moments Tony patted Steve’s chest and praised, “Good job, petal.”

Steve snorted, amused, “Are we doing performance reviews now?”

Tony tipped his head up to beam at him. “Well, if we were, I would give you an 11/10. Definitely would come again,” and he punctuated that horrible pun with an eyebrow waggle that was awful but that Steve somehow found charming. He would blame the post-sex endorphins except that these days he found pretty much everything Tony did endearing.

Steve rolled them both over until he was above Tony and then employed the only tried and true method he’d found to shut Tony up: kissing him.

\-------

**Saturday. Rhodey’s “Welcome Back!” lunch at Tony’s.**

James Rhodes gave Steve a once-over, clearly sizing him up, before sticking out his hand for Steve to shake, “Hi, I’m Rhodey.”

Steve smiled at him and gripped his hand, “Hey, I’m Steve. Great to finally meet you.”

“Mmhm. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good I hope,” Steve said brightly and next to him Tony dissolved into giggles.

Rhodey just gave Steve another assessing look, lips pursed, before moving on to hug Pepper and Natasha.

Steve elbowed a still-laughing Tony in the side and hissed, “I thought you said you were going to help me.” Rhodey had gotten some time off from Air Force training to come visit Tony and Pepper for Halloween weekend, and Steve was trying to make a good impression.  _ Trying  _ being the operative word. Rhodey was Tony’s best friend and Steve kind of wanted Rhodey to… approve of him.

“I know, I know, but I think that it’s more fun this way?” Tony said, a little out of breath from all the laughing.

“It’s not fun for me! He thinks I’m an awful person!” Because when Tony had told him that Rhodey was coming to visit, he had also mentioned that he had spent a lot of time complaining to Rhodey about Steve in the early days of their relationship and those stories (especially when told by Tony with his flair for the dramatic) obviously did not paint Steve in the best light. So Steve was fighting an uphill battle here if wanted to get Rhodey to stop glaring at him in a vaguely murderous way.

“Yeah well, you are a little bit,” Tony replied cheekily.

Steve huffed and crossed his arms and Tony cracked up again, reaching up to poke Steve’s cheek. “Don’t frown pumpkin, just go over and be your natural, nauseatingly perfect self and Rhodey will be charmed. I mean, you managed to get me to like you and Rhodey is a much nicer person than I am, so this should be a piece of cake.”

\-------

Tony sat at the kitchen counter and watched from across the room as Steve said something that made Rhodey throw his head back in laughter. Because obviously Steve had succeeded in making Rhodey like him. It had been inevitable, really - everyone loved Steve. But it made Tony feel ridiculously happy to see Rhodey and Steve hitting it off.

Tony watched as Rhodey gave Steve a friendly clap on the shoulder before making his way back over to Tony. Behind Rhodey, Steve smiled delightedly at Tony before shooting him a quick thumbs up (Steve really was the world’s biggest dork), clearly enormously pleased with himself.

Rhodey plopped himself down on the stool next to him and Tony sighed theatrically, “You come all this way to see me honey bear, and then you spend all of your time talking to other people.”

Rhodey snorted, “Feeling neglected Tones?”

“You know me; I need constant attention or else I wither away.”

“Wow, finally owning up to it? Look at you growing as a person!”

“Ugh never, take it back,” Tony protested.

Rhodey smiled, “But in all seriousness Tony, you look good. Happy.” When Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, Rhodey rolled his eyes, “You know, happy? That state of being where you smile more and no longer have constant dark circles underneath your eyes? Regardless, you seem to be doing way better than you were this summer.”

Tony waved a hand airily - dismissively - because he didn’t remember most of his summer; it was all just one big blur of yachts, Europe, sex, and trying (and failing) to drink away his worries. He didn’t really remember and he didn’t want to remember. It hadn’t been Tony’s best, most stable, time and there was no way he was actually going to talk about it. “You know that the sun goes to my head.”

Rhodey looked at him for a second, making sure that Tony knew that Rhodey had noticed Tony’s deflection and was choosing not to pursue the subject out of the goodness of his heart, which Tony deeply appreciated. Then, his smile turned devilish. “And you and Steve are just adorable,” he added faux-casually.

Tony froze. Because how the fuck did Rhodey know? But no, he couldn’t. Tony hadn’t told him and Steve sure as hell wouldn’t have, which meant that Rhodey must have just guessed? Shit. Were he and Steve that fucking obvious? This was not good. Steve would flip if he thought that Tony had said something to Rhodey. Tony carefully schooled his expression, infusing it with just enough deprecating humor so it would be believable when he laughed and said, “What? Steve and I aren’t together.” It made his stomach churn a little, lying to Rhodey, but it had to be done.

Rhodey gave him a surprised look, “Really?”

Tony grinned even though he didn’t really feel like smiling anymore. “Yep, we’re just reluctant friends. And plus, I’m really not Steve’s type. I’m pretty sure he tends to like his significant others to be nice, sweet, and female and I am none of those things.”

Some of Tony’s bitterness must have shone through because Rhodey gave him a worried look, “Tones-” and that was _just fantastic_. Now Rhodey clearly thought that Tony was like, in unrequited love with Steve or something, which, okay, was kind of valid but Tony really, _really_ didn’t need other people to know all about his pathetic feelings. If other people knew about his feelings then they might talk about his feelings and then _Steve_ might find out about said feelings and that would definitely ruin the whole friends-with-benefits, we’re-not-talking-about-it, everything-is-casual thing they had going on.

Tony cut him off, “Rhodey it’s fine, really. There’s nothing going on. Don’t worry about it. And I am, happy that is. Now tell me what you’re planning on dressing up as for tonight’s party because I’m here to tell you that wearing your dress uniform is 100% cheating.” It wasn’t even a lie. Tony was happy. Sure, maybe not as happy as he could be, but he was happy enough and it was  _ fine _ . Having Steve even a little was enough.

Rhodey gave him one more searching look before thankfully going along with Tony’s subject change, “I don’t know Tones, do you think that going as Maverick from Top Gun is a little too self-referential? And more importantly, if I go as something else, how will all the girls know just how good I look in uniform?”

\-------

**Later that night. Halloween Party at Clint’s. #Rage.**

The party was already in full swing when Tony found himself alone in the kitchen, the sounds of laughter and music filtering in through the closed door. Tony was studying the array of drink options when he heard the kitchen door open and close behind him and then there were warm hands on his hips and voice in his ear, “Bruce Wayne - billionaire, genius, playboy? Isn’t your costume a little on the nose?”

Tony turned around to grin at Steve and said in his best Christian Bale voice, “Who’s this Bruce Wayne? I’m Batman.” Tony was dressed in black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt with the batman logo, a black cape and of course, the batman hood. Tony took in Steve’s costume which consisted of dark slacks, a white button down, and black, thick-framed glasses. “And just who are you supposed to be?”

Steve raised a finger to his lips before unbuttoning his collared shirt halfway down to reveal… the superman logo. 

Tony almost fell over laughing. “Really?”

Steve smiled and shrugged, “I saw your costume hanging in your closet the other day and I figured it would be funny.” That made Tony’s stomach flip because it was almost as if they were wearing matching costumes - like an actual fucking couple - which was nauseating but also adorable and made Tony want to kiss Steve’s perfect face quite a lot. Plus, “Steve in glasses” was a look that was really working for Tony. 

Tony stepped closer and tugged Steve’s shirt open a little wider. “Well, it’s certainly fitting, but did you have to go for the Clark Kent version? I think you would have rocked the Superman spandex,” Tony punctuated this statement with a pretty unsubtle leer of Steve’s glorious everything as he tried to sneakily unbutton more buttons of Steve’s shirt. Tony sometimes felt like his life was just a perpetual quest to get Steve out of his clothing.

Steve grinned before leaning in slightly - as if going for a kiss - and Tony fell for the trap, swaying closer before Steve abruptly drew back, and lifting his hand up, yanked the Batman hood straight off of Tony’s head. 

“My secret identity!” Tony cried out and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I couldn’t take you seriously when you were wearing that.”

“Excuse you, Batman is  _ very serious _ .”

“Yeah, but when you were wearing that, I couldn’t do this,” and Steve ducked his head to give Tony a quick but thorough kiss before drawing back. “So what were you doing in here all alone before I interrupted?”

“Hmmm?” Tony asked, eyes focused on Steve’s lips as he plotted how exactly he could get them back on his. He then blinked and looked back up to meet Steve’s amused gaze, “Oh. Well, I was trying to decide what to drink,” Tony suddenly had an idea and he smirked, “You can help me with that, you know.”

“Yeah?” Steve looked a little apprehensive which Tony thought was uncalled for. What did Steve think was going to happen here? That Tony was going to make Steve strip and then serve him drinks? Actually, that idea had a lot of merit and he might have to revisit it at a later date, but for now-

Tony hopped up on the counter and dragged salt, lime wedges, and a bottle of tequila over. “How about a body shot?” Tony was pretty much willing to use whatever excuse necessary to get his mouth back on Steve. With Rhodey visiting, Tony hadn’t seen Steve properly since Thursday night and he was jonesing for a kiss or two (or five or as many as Steve would give him).

“Okay.” Steve’s gaze darkened and he (regrettably) took off his fake glasses before stepping in between Tony’s spread legs and asking, “How does this go again?” as he poured out a shot for… himself, apparently.

“You want to take one?” Tony asked, a little stupefied. He really had to stop underestimating Steve. Steve just raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Salt, shot, lime,” Tony finally said in a voice that some might characterize as breathy.  _ Fuck _ . This was going to be good.

And then, Steve leaned forward and licked a wet stripe across the side of Tony’s neck. Tony let his head fall to the side as he let out a small, involuntary gasp. Steve pulled back, eyes hazy and full of promise, and sprinkled some salt on the area he had just licked.

Steve then picked up a lime wedge and commanded, “Open.” Tony’s mouth fell open, a little frisson of lust racing up his spine at the order, and he bit down the edge of the lime wedge Steve placed there.

“Alright,” Steve said, a small smile playing across his lips, “Salt.” Steve leaned back in to lick the salt on Tony’s neck, making him shiver. “Shot,” Steve drew back and threw back the tequila shot with a slight grimace (which was simultaneously hot and adorable). “Lime,” Steve bit into the lime, his bright blue eyes holding Tony’s gaze as his lips brushed Tony’s and then the lime was falling forgotten between them and Steve’s mouth was properly on his.  _ Fucking finally. _

Tony could taste the tequila on Steve’s tongue as he wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist and ran his hands through Steve’s carefully coiffed Clark Kent hair. Steve’s hands immediately gripped Tony’s hips and pulled him closer until they were pressed together, their kiss quickly reaching a feverish intensity. Tony was well on his way to getting lost in Steve when someone crashed into the other side of the closed kitchen door with a resounding bang.

Steve jerked away from him, taking a faltering step backwards as his eyes widening and he glanced at the closed door through which the sounds of the party were extremely audible.  _ Shit _ , Tony had gotten so caught up in Steve that he had completely forgotten that they were still in a relatively public place. 

Tony looked at Steve nervously, biting his lip and waiting for his reaction. Steve looked back at him for a moment - cheeks pink and hair mussed - before reaching out a hand and tugging Tony off of the counter. “Come with me.”

Tony followed Steve out of the kitchen, vaguely confused as Steve steered him down a dark and empty hallway instead of heading to the living room where the party was. Things became clearer when as soon as they turned a corner and were out of sight, Steve was right there, crowding Tony against a wall and kissing him again, an edge of desperation palpable in the way his hands gripped Tony’s head, fingers threading through his hair. 

Tony threw himself into the kiss; tongues intertwined as they tasted each other and Tony clenched his fingers in the muscle of Steve’s back, almost frantic with how much he wanted this, wanted Steve. And then Steve was muscling his leg in between Tony’s as they pressed even closer and Tony moaned because he finally had something solid to rock his erection against. Steve’s hands were on Tony’s ass, encouraging him to grind against the firm length of Steve’s thigh as their hips moved together. Tony’s pulse raced and he felt practically lightheaded from arousal.

The music from the party and the sounds of conversation and laughter were the background noise for their kiss and it made Tony feel hot and flushed all over that all of their friends were just around the corner. That anyone could walk by and see them like this - Tony basically writhing against Steve, frantic and needy.

Tony pulled back from their kiss, taking in gulps of air as his head tipped back against the wall. Steve wasted no time in moving to Tony’s throat, licking across his Adam’s apple and nosing at the hollow of his throat.

“You have to fuck me,” Tony practically moaned, his voice ragged and Steve stilled. Steve stopped everything - stopped kissing his throat, stopped moving - and met Tony’s gaze, his eyes wide and red lips parted.  _ Oh shit,  _ thought Tony,  _ I actually said that out loud.  _

Tony blinked, “I mean, you don’t  _ have _ to-” Because it wasn’t like he was going to force Steve to fuck him. Maybe that was something that Steve was saving for someone that mattered and-

“Yes,” Steve cut him off as he blushed even more, “Yes, I want that.”

Tony took a moment to worry, to consider that he might be about to make a huge mistake. Because if they did this, it was going to mean something to him and it probably wouldn’t to Steve. For Steve, this was just another stop on his walk down the Kinsey scale, but to Tony, it was getting to have sex with someone he cared about, someone he lo- 

Tony’s train of thought short circuited as Steve reached out to cup his cheek. It was always like this. Steve touched him Tony forgot every single reason why what they were doing could possibly be a bad idea.

Fuck it. 

Tony wanted this and he was going to let himself have it.

Tony licked his lips, “Okay, let’s go.”

\-------

**One frustratingly tense cab ride later.**

They banged into the closed door of Tony’s bedroom, both still fully clothed which was something that Tony was trying to fix, but not having a lot of success with considering that he kept getting distracted by the feel of Steve’s lips on his.

Steve groped for the door handle behind Tony with one hand mumbling, “Fucking doors,” in between kisses.

“Fucking doors? Your fucking multiple shirts,” Tony shot back as finally managed to strip Steve out of superman t-shirt that had been underneath his button up (that shirt had been not so tragically lost somewhere in the hallway). Tony was basking in his success when Steve finally managed to locate and turn the doorknob, sending Tony stumbling back into his room. Tony righted himself and wasted no time in stripping out of his own clothes. Boxers and pants hit the floor moments after his shirt and he was finally naked.

Tony glanced up to find that Steve was still standing shirtless in the doorway, his gaze intense and covetous as it swept over Tony’s body, making him shudder in anticipation. Tony watched as Steve massaged the erection tenting his slacks and Tony couldn’t help reaching down to touch himself, willing to wait for Steve to make a move, to take control of the situation. Steve’s gaze sparked, “God, Tony, you’re so fucking gorgeous, I just-” his eyes slipped briefly closed before opening again with a blink, “I just want…” he trailed off.

“Steve,” Tony’s gaze locked with Steve’s, “Whatever you want, you can have it,” he promised. Steve’s mouth tipped into a smile and he was moving forward, closing the distance between them in a few easy strides and cupping Tony’s face in his hands so he could capture Tony’s lips in a kiss that was both sweet and fierce.

“Okay.”

\-------

Steve kissed Tony - his blood racing with excitement - and all he could think was that he was going to get to have Tony. Tony, who was good and beautiful and terrifyingly smart. Tony, who could pick anyone but had for some reason picked  _ Steve _ . He couldn’t wait any longer. Steve took a step back - leaving an appealingly dazed Tony to blink at him with parted, kiss-swollen lips - before quickly stripping out of his own pants and boxers.

Tony’s hot, appreciative gaze immediately took in the newly revealed skin and he grinned before ( _ fucking finally _ ) getting on the bed and stretching in a way that emphasized the curves of his body, lean muscles shifting enticingly underneath skin. Then Tony propped himself up on his elbows and resumed his unabashed perusal of Steve’s body before drawling, “It’s your show, babe. Whatever you want. Although, if I can make a suggestion: you’re hard, I’m hard and I’ve wanted this for fucking ever. Let’s dispense with the foreplay, hmm?”

Steve smiled, shaking his head, before crawling onto the bed and over Tony until he was hovering over him, arms braced by Tony’s head. He ducked his head down and met Tony’s lips with his own, his tongue dipping into Tony’s mouth for a taste and his his body settling briefly against Tony’s before he drew back and away. Tony let out a needy little sound as his body arched into the air, clearly missing Steve’s weight. 

“You fucking tease,” accused Tony.

Still straddling Tony but barely touching him, Steve sat back on his heels and remarked contemplatively, “Maybe I won’t fuck you after all. Maybe tonight will just be all foreplay. Maybe I won’t even let you come.” Steve trailed his fingers lightly down Tony’s chest, stopping before reaching Tony’s straining cock and Tony gasped, his body rolling up to try to get more of Steve’s touch.

“Fuck you, I don’t need you to come. I can get myself off.” Tony’s declaration would probably have been a little more believable if it hadn’t been gasped out as Tony squirmed, clearly desperate for Steve’s hands and Steve’s body against his.

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly as much fun,” Steve said and then he finally put them both out of their misery, covering Tony’s body with his own and claiming Tony’s mouth once more. 

Tony felt perfect underneath him. Plush lips, firm muscles, sweat-slicked skin, pebbled nipples and the hot, hard line of his cock - Steve couldn’t get enough of Tony. He got a little lost in it, in feeling Tony. In between heated kisses and nips to Tony’s lips, his throat, his chest, Steve indulged in touches. A sweeping caress down Tony’s side, a firm grip on Tony’s thigh as they moved together, an indolent stroke of Tony’s cock; he couldn’t seem to stop touching.

“God, fuck,  _ please _ . Steve, please, you have to fuck me. Now. I need it.” Tony’s words cut through the haze of Steve’s arousal and he raised his head from where he had been laying bites along Tony’s collarbone to meet Tony’s beseeching, challenging gaze. 

Steve grinned, only Tony could turn “please” into a demand instead of an entreaty. Steve licked his lips, and attempted to gather his thoughts while still staring down at a debauched Tony, “Okay, okay, I need-”

Tony hurriedly cut him off, “Bedside table, top drawer.”

Steve reluctantly shifted away from Tony to reach over and yank the drawer open. He grabbed a condom and lube and raised an eyebrow at the variety of dildos and vibrators that Tony also had stashed in there. That definitely merited further thorough explanation at a later date, but right now, Steve had more important things to focus on.

Steve tore open the condom and quickly rolled it on before pouring some lube into his palm and reaching out to slick Tony’s cock. Tony’s hips punched up, his legs falling open as he gasped out, “Steve.” And Steve took the invitation, trailing his slick fingers down until they pressed firmly at Tony’s hot and eager hole.

\-------

By the end of tonight, Tony was either going to die or have the most spectacular orgasm of his life. He sincerely hoped it was the latter. Fuck, just even the  _ thought  _ of getting Steve’s fingers back in him was enough to almost push Tony over the edge. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he needed it. Right now, it felt like he might just combust if he didn’t get Steve inside of him soon.  

And then, miracle of miracles, Steve was finally pushing a finger forward. The stretch was slow and perfect and Tony felt like he might pass out from how fucking good it felt to finally have something in him. Steve fucked him slowly with one finger, eyes dark and focused on Tony’s face, noting his every expression, before Tony got impatient and panted, “Scoot back a minute?”

Steve moved back, a question clear on his face but Tony didn’t bother answering. He just flipped over, bracing himself on his elbows and spreading his knees as he arched his back. He then glanced back over his shoulder at Steve who was fisting his cock as his gaze drank in the expanse of Tony’s body. Tony closed his eyes for a second, fighting for control, before opening them and demanding, “Two fingers.”

Steve, thankfully, seemed to agree that the time for teasing was over and immediately obliged, easing two fingers inside of him and Tony couldn’t help fucking himself back against them. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed. God, it had been forever since Tony had been properly fucked by something other than his own fingers or a toy. 

Steve fucked him with two fingers and then three and Tony reveled in it - the stretch and the slight burn. Steve’s fingers occasionally curved and every time they brushed along Tony’s prostate, it made him moan raggedly and push back even harder against them. Steve was driving him crazy, but it wasn’t enough and Tony finally snapped, “Now, Steve. Give it to me now.”

\-------

God, this was actually happening. Steve was about to fuck a guy and it felt… completely normal. Well, not  _ normal _ considering that Steve wanted this more than he had probably wanted anything ever, but it felt natural. Right. Like he had been waiting his whole life for this, for Tony. 

Steve grabbed the lube and poured some onto his covered erection before spreading Tony’s toned ass cheeks, baring his slick and stretched hole. Then Steve lined himself up and started to slowly push forward. As his cock slid past the ring of muscle, Steve had to pause and remember to breathe because the heat and pressure was  _ unreal _ . And Tony, apparently impatient with his progress, bucked backwards causing Steve to slide even further inside.

“Fuck,” Steve breathed, his hands gripping Tony’s hips as he fought the impulse to just slam into him. Tony moved forward and then back again and Steve pressed forward slowly as well, watching transfixed as his cock disappeared inch by inch into Tony. And then, abruptly, Steve was full seated, his hips pressed firmly against Tony’s.

Tony turned to look over his shoulder at Steve and pleaded, “Steve, move.” 

And that, Steve could do.

One hand gripping Tony’s hip and the other his shoulder, Steve pulled out and snapped his hips forward. Tony moaned beneath him, “Fuck yes,” and Steve took that as permission to really start moving, pleasure spiking through him with every thrust. 

Steve knew this was going to be over sooner than he would have liked. It was just too new, too intense. And even though he wanted to savor every second of what was happening, at the moment, he was only capable of ruthlessly chasing his own completion.

Steve dropped down on his arms - his palms flat against the bed - so that he could drape himself fully over Tony as he moved, their sweat-slick bodies sliding together. Kissing Tony’s shoulder, neck, and ear he murmured, “God Tony, you’re so beautiful like this. So damn perfect for me.”

Beneath him Tony whined, “Steve,” and reached up to hook an arm around Steve’s head as he bucked back into Steve’s thrusts, his mouth open and panting. And then Tony’s head turned and their mouths were coming together in a heated kiss, tongues battling and lips bruising.

Steve had never felt anything like this before. The mind-blowing pleasure, the startling intensity - he couldn’t get enough of it, of Tony. And when underneath him Tony demanded, “Harder,” Steve immediately complied, his hips slamming into Tony’s as Tony moaned, “Yes, Steve, yes.”

\-------

Fuck, Steve was going to  _ ruin  _ him. It was perfect and it was terrifying and Tony wanted it so badly that his entire body ached with need. He felt stretched, pulled taught, Steve winding him tighter and tighter until all that was left was for Tony to snap.

Steve pounded into him, his cock stretching Tony perfectly and hitting exactly the right spot with almost every thrust to make him want to scream. As they moved together their mouths met once more and Tony felt totally surrounded by Steve - engulfed by him and by the fire that crackled between them. It was so fucking good that Tony knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

Desperately, frantically, Tony reached down to start stripping his own cock. He could feel his orgasm building, his pleasure soaring to impossible heights, the waves roaring until they finally crested and his climax slammed into him and Tony came with shout, feeling like he had been fractured into million pieces.

\-------

The moment Tony came, clenching impossibly tighter around him, Steve knew that that was it for him as well. He thrust forward once, twice more before the mind-numbing orgasm swept through him, practically whiting out his vision. Steve came with Tony’s name on his lips.

Steve somehow found the willpower to (instead of immediately collapsing) carefully pull out and get rid of the condom before spooning up behind Tony, who was still lying face down on the bed, struggling to catch his breath.

The breathed together for a little bit before Steve got a little nervous about Tony’s quietness. Tony was not a quiet person but maybe- “Tony?” he asked tentatively, “Are you okay?”

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitched up and he rolled, maneuvering so that he and Steve were lying on their sides face to face. Tony was smiling and Steve breathed a sigh of relief, smiling back. Then Tony leaned to kiss the tip of his nose, his cheek, and his mouth before answering, “Yeah sweetheart, I’m perfect,” and Steve felt practically incandescent with happiness. He had Tony in his life and in his bed and Tony was happy. What more could he want?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Again, I am perpetually sorry that it's been forever since I last updated, but real life got busy and this chapter ended up being longer than I planned. I know not a ton happens in this chapter (the subtitle of this chapter is “Steve falling in love with Tony but not realizing it because he’s an idiot and then there’s sex”) but it’s kind of like the calm before a storm because coming up, we a few chapters of angst before we get to the happy ending. As always, thanks for reading/leaving kudos/commenting! 
> 
> P.S. In my attempt to become more involved in fandom, I have recently join Imzy! If you’re as big of a Steve/Tony nerd as I am, I would highly recommend joining and heading over to the Imzy group: Bringing Food to the Lab: Stony Fic. We regularly geek out about our favorite Stony fics, headcanons, art, etc. and occasionally post stuff about the fics we’re working on, so please come and hang out!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential chapter warning: some biphobic/homophobic language. No slurs, but a sort of dismissal of bisexuality and homosexuality as valid lifestyles?

 

**A week or two later.**

Steve walked into Tony’s bedroom and immediately ducked as a pair of pants went sailing over his head. Steve looked around, taking in the carnage. It looked like Tony’s closest had exploded, covering every surface of Tony’s normally (relatively) tidy room with clothes. In the middle of it all lay an open, half-packed suitcase.

“Tony?” Steve called out.

Tony’s head popped out from his closet, “Steve?”

“Are you going somewhere?” Steve asked stooping to pick up what seemed to be a pair of bright red briefs edged with gold. Steve was momentarily sidetracked by imagining Tony wearing said briefs and not a lot else and missed Tony darting forward to snatch them out of his hand. 

Steve blinked at Tony.

Tony glanced down at the underwear and then back up at Steve, “Maybe later, if you’re very good. And yeah, I’m going to LA for a couple of days - I thought I told you.”

“You didn’t,” Steve said, trying to ignore the way his stomach swooped. Tony didn’t have to tell him everything. In fact, Tony didn’t have to tell him anything. It’s not like they were- Steve shook his head to clear it and smiled a little, “What’s in LA?”

Tony grimaced, “SI PR obligations and a shareholder meeting or two.”

“Not looking forward to it?” Steve asked lightly because he knew that Tony’s relationship with SI was… complicated, to say the least.

Tony shrugged as he tossed a few t-shirts into the open suitcase, “It’s not like I’m going out there to do anything substantial… but hey, all the party-related open bars will be nice.”

Steve studied Tony’s downturned head - his gaze focused on the suit he had laid out on his bed instead of on Steve - and decided not to press the issue. “And you’ve decided to pack your entire wardrobe just in case the apocalypse strikes while you’re there?”

That startled a laugh out of Tony and he looked back up at Steve with crinkled eyes, “Well usually Pepper helps me pack, but she has an exam tomorrow and so has tragically left me to fend for myself.” Tony paused before remarking contemplatively, “And packing is not really my forte.”

“What? I would never have guessed that,” Steve deadpanned, looking around at the disaster-zone that was Tony’s room.

That earned him a ball of socks to the face from an indignant Tony and Steve retaliated by picking up the nearest item of clothing (an actual bunny slipper - seriously, what was Tony’s wardrobe?), launching it at Tony.

The short and furious fight that ensued (featuring multiple thrown articles of clothing, a few pillows, and a lot of mocking of some of Tony’s more questionable fashion choices) was mostly a product of neither of them being good at letting something go or accepting defeat of any kind graciously. Eventually, Steve managed to pin Tony, his hands pressing Tony’s arms into the bed as he straddled Tony’s waist. “Do… you… yield?” Steve panted out, practically breathless from laughing.

“Never,” Tony glared up at him as he squirmed, trying (and failing) to break free. In the middle of all the wriggling, Tony’s groin brushed against Steve’s half-hard cock (he had Tony  _ pinned to the bed _ \- of course he was half hard) and Tony abruptly stopped moving, his eyes glinting dangerously and mouth curving in a knowing smirk

“Really now,” Tony purred, “You like this, holding me down.” Tony paused and his eyes went half-lidded as he arched up deliberately in a sinuous roll. “Don’t worry, I like it too,” he breathed.

Steve blinked and flushed, picturing just what he would like to do with a Tony that he had at entirely at his mercy and causing him to momentarily loosening his grip on Tony’s arms. Tony deviously took advantage of Steve’s distraction to wrench out of Steve’s hold and using his momentum, he flipped them so that Tony ended up straddling Steve’s waist.

“Ha! I win,” Tony declared triumphantly, fingers curling into the fabric of Steve’s shirt at his chest.

Steve stared up at Tony who was mussed and pink-cheeked from their scuffle and couldn’t help smiling back at him. “What exactly do you win?” Steve asked, his hands settling on Tony’s waist and fingers slipping underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

“Oh I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Tony mused and leaned down to kiss him. 

\-------

Tony had barely been gone 48 hours and already Steve was bored. Steve tried to remember what he had done with his free time before he and Tony had started their thing, but he was coming up blank. In fact, Steve was pretty sure that he had spent all that extra time studying more, reading, or painting. Oh god. Was Tony right? Was Steve boring?

Oh for fuck’s sake, this was getting ridiculous. 

Steve picked up his phone.

If Steve missed Tony, he should just text him instead of sitting in his room and worrying himself into an existential crisis.

Oh shit.

That’s what this was. Steve  _ missed  _ Tony. It was so stupid. Tony had been barely gone for two days (out of the total of five he was spending in LA) but Steve already missed him. Shaking his head, Steve resolutely put his phone back down and walked out of his room and into the living room. He settled down on the couch and cracked open the Alexander Hamilton biography he was reading. Everything was fine, Steve was  _ fine _ .

Ten minutes later, Steve was pretty sure he had re-read the same page at least five times while somehow managing to absorb exactly none of the text. Disgruntled, he threw down his book and stomped back into this room to pick up his phone and glare accusingly at it. His phone looked innocently back at him.

_ Fuck it. _

Without thinking about it too much, Steve unlocked his phone and typed out a quick message and hit send.

Steve Rogers [8:44pm]:  _ Hey! How’s LA? _

Steve breathed in relief. There. He had texted Tony. Maybe now he could get something done. Sitting down at his desk, Steve started to go over his class notes from today. After a few minutes of Steve resolutely focusing on real life things, his phone buzzed and Steve lunged for it, practically falling out his chair.

Tony Stark [8:49pm]:  _ Cupcake! Sugarplum! Sweet cheeks! _

Steve grinned.

Steve Rogers [8:51pm]:  _ Sweet cheeks? Really? _

Tony Stark [8:52pm]:  _ ‘Really?’ That should be my line. AKA Is ‘sweet cheeks’ really where you’re going to choose to draw the line? _

Steve Rogers [8:54]:  _ I have to think about it, maybe create some sort of nickname blacklist... _

Tony Stark [8:55pm]:  _ Riiiight, because telling me not to do something usually always totally works _

Steve Rogers [8:57pm]:  _ I’m sure I could find a way to convince you _

Tony Stark [8:58pm]:  _ Reeaaaallllyyyy now. Alright, I’m down and very ready to be convinced. So…. what are you wearing? _

Tony Stark [8:58pm]:  _ Pics if you’re so inclined _

Tony Stark [8:58pm]:  _ Bonus points if they include your sweet cheeks  _

Steve snorted and briefly considered- but no, Tony would definitely need to work harder than that before Steve sent him any sort of… Or, rather - as Steve hastily reminded himself - he was obviously a mature adult and definitely, completely above sexting. Still smiling ridiculously wide and with a slow warmth spreading through his chest, Steve composed his text back.

\-------

**A few days later. LA, California.**

Tony slumped in the chair outside of Howard’s office, drained. He couldn’t fucking wait to get back to Boston - to MIT, to his lab, to his bots, to Pepper, to Steve. Tony couldn’t wait to go home, but first he had to get through this final, one-on-one meeting with Howard.  _ Joy _ . Just what he needed to top off these hellish past few days (so much talking about weapons and fake smiling): more time with his father.

Tony’s trip to LA had passed in a blur of carefully orchestrated PR events, scripted magazine interviews, and SI board meetings where Tony had very little say in what was actually decided. He was mostly there for show, to play the perfect heir to the company so that his father could point to him and assure investors that the future of SI was in good hands.  _ Whatever. _ It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent most of the last eighteen years being paraded around by Howard at society parties and SI events. Tony was used to it by now - the expectation that he was there to be seen and not heard.

Tony’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out, already smiling.

Steve Rogers [3:06pm]:  _ Did you know that dentures used to be made using the teeth of dead people - mostly soldiers? _

Tony Stark [3:07pm]:  _ Oh my god, I asked you to entertain me, not give me nightmares _

Steve Rogers [3:09pm]:  _ But...  _

Tony Stark [3:09pm]:  _ No _

Steve Rogers [3:10pm]:  _ Fine. How about this: before becoming the Pope in the mid-15th century, Pius II wrote a popular erotic novel, The Tale of Two Lovers _

Tony Stark [3:11pm]:  _ … you have my attention _

Tony wasn’t sure he would have made it through the past few days without Steve. Steve who Tony had desperately missed from the moment his plane had taken off from Boston and who had astonishingly been the one to text him first. Tony had texted him back and then just… didn’t stop. A river of words flowed between them and Steve was always there. The buzz of Tony’s phone in his pocket (with Steve on the other end) was the one thing that had kept Tony grounded through interminable meetings with SI board members, shareholders, and potential investors who all wanted to talk about weapons tech. 

“Mr. Stark will see you now.”

Tony looked up to find one of Howard’s sleekly beautiful assistants (Howard seemed to get a new one every few months or so and Tony could never keep up with their names) holding open the door to Howard’s office. Tony got to his feet, pocketed his phone, and stepped inside.

“Tony,” Howard greeted, gesturing to a chair in front him. Tony sat. Howard steepled his fingers and gazed at Tony. Tony waited. This was the first time he had been alone with his father since their last meeting in Boston - the meeting where Howard had basically blackmailed Tony into cleaning up his act.

Eventually, Howard spoke, “Tony, you’ve done well these past few days,” and Tony let out a small sigh of relief, some of the tension that had been coiling inside of him easing. Tony nodded and Howard continued, “And you’ve been doing well in Boston too. Keeping a low profile, committed to your volunteering, the new prosthetics initiative - all good. You’re finally acting like a Stark. I’m glad that we don’t have to have another unpleasant discussion about it.”

Tony nodded again, tersely and gritting his teeth. He just needed to get through this meeting without pissing Howard off. If that meant him being silent, then so be it.

“But there is one matter we need to discuss-” and of-fucking-course there was. Tony watched warily as Howard pulled out a large envelope from a drawer and slid it across the desk.

Tony opened the envelope, flipped through the contents, and felt his heart stop. Because inside the envelope were photos. Photos of him and Steve - photos of Tony with his arms around Steve on the back of his bike, photos of them stumbling out of Shield hand in hand, photos of them kissing at the aquarium. Tony’s stomach roiled and his pulse raced. “How-” he started, voice hoarse and thoughts spinning.

Howard waved a negligent hand, “I had you followed of course. After our last meeting, that is. I needed to make sure that you would adhere to our agreement.” Tony just stared. Because Howard made it seem like that was a one-hundred-percent reasonable thing for a parent to do which it emphatically was  _ not _ .

Howard apparently took Tony’s stunned silence as an invitation to continue talking. “I’ve been tolerant of your… choices in this area so far. It’s fine for now - you’re young and you’re not flaunting it. But just remember that when the time comes, you will be expected to put an end to this phase and be with someone… suitable.  _ He _ ,” Howard paused, making sure that Tony understood him, “is not suitable.  _ He  _ is not someone you could have on your arm at an SI event.” The subtext was obvious: Tony could fuck around with men as much as he wanted for now so long as didn’t parade them in public and so long as he eventually married some heiress that Howard approved of.

It made Tony incandescently furious.

Tony needed to get out of here before he did something extremely ill-advised.

Tony stood up. “Are we done here?” he bit out.

Howard nodded, his expression calm and his gaze cool and appraising, and all Tony wanted was for him to show some emotion for once; to look at Tony like he was a person (like he was his  _ son _ ) and not one of Howard’s machine that needed fixing.

All thoughts of not doing anything ill-advised went right out the window.

“Good, because I can’t wait to get home and have Steve fuck me properly. Multiple times. In multiple different positions. My hand and a vibrator really haven’t been cutting it these past few days,” Tony drawled and reveled in the way Howard’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened in shock. “That’s his name - Steve,” Tony continued blithely, “But I’m sure you already know that; you probably have some sort of file on him. So I’m just going to say this once: do not have me followed again. Because two can play at that game and I’m sure that I’d be able to dig up quite a few skeletons in your closet if I decided to go looking for them. Oh, and stay the fuck away from Steve.”

Tony waited and as soon as Howard tipped him a begrudging nod in response, he turned on his heel and left. Thank god both airports and airplanes had an abundance of alcohol. 

\------

**The next day.**

Steve knocked on the door to Tony’s apartment and waited. Tony was supposed to have gotten back from LA last night and they had had tentative plans to see each other as soon as Tony landed, but Tony had stopped responding to texts right before his flight. Right in the middle of a conversation too. Steve had kept texting and had even tried calling once but still nothing. 

Steve knocked again, his stomach swooping nervously.  _ Tony’s fine _ , he told himself firmly,  _ his phone just probably broke or something. But if that was true,  _ whispered the traitorous part of his brain,  _ then why didn’t he message or email you as soon as he was near a computer?  _ It followed that if Tony was fine, then the only explanation for why he wasn’t talking to Steve was that he didn’t want to.

Steve hoped like hell that wasn’t the case even as feared that it was true.

Yesterday, Bucky - who because of his internship at the Boston Globe kept up with all sorts of news - had emailed all of them links to articles chronicling Tony’s trip with the caption “Stark cleans up pretty nice!” Steve had scrolled through them and had seen the multitudes of pictures of Tony looking immaculate and gorgeous in his bespoke suits, laughing, shaking hands, and drinking with other beautiful and pristinely dressed men and women. And then there were the pictures of Tony smiling and  _ embracing _ an attractive dark-haired young man captioned, “Tony Stark, son of Stark Industries’ CEO Howard Stark, catches up with childhood friend Tiberius Stone, son of Viastone’s CEO Lucius Stone.” In the pictures, Stone’s gaze was admiring and his hands rested intimately low on Tony’s hips. 

Steve didn’t like it. 

He wanted to reach into the photo and rip Stone’s hands off of Tony.

Steve had read all the articles and looked at all the photos, feeling progressively more and more uneasy. This was what awaited Tony after graduation. This was what Tony’s real life looked like - glitz and LA glamour, not living in shitty student housing with nights spent at the local bar and days spent getting coffee or playing tourist or volunteering with Steve. Tony was already gorgeous, funny and wickedly smart, and one day he was also going to be one of the richest and most powerful men in the country. 

So what the fuck was Tony doing with Steve? 

What did Steve have to offer someone like Tony? He was just a poor kid from Brooklyn who was probably going to end up as an underpaid, overworked civil rights lawyer or public defender. Steve would never fit in with Tony’s world of glittery sophistication. He couldn’t even imagine trying.

Steve stood in front of Tony’s locked door, waiting for him to open it after almost 24 hours of radio silence and wondered if he was just deluding himself by thinking that whatever they had between them meant something. Did Steve really think it was going to last? Did he really believe that Tony wouldn’t eventually find someone better? Objectively, he knew that this thing they had was just some sort of diversion for Tony, but it had hurt to be reminded of it so plainly. Steve’s breath caught. Was this how the end of them started? With Tony ignoring his texts and calls?

Steve briefly contemplated just leaving - clearly Tony either wasn’t home or wasn’t interested in seeing him - but that thought only lasted a second.  _ Fuck leaving _ . Seriously. Steve wasn’t going anywhere until he at least knew that Tony was okay.

Steve pounded on the again door and called out, “Tony? If you’re there, open the door or I’m letting myself in. I have a key, remember?”

After a few more moments of waiting, Tony’s front door swung open and Steve was confronted with a disheveled and glaring Tony. Steve promptly felt any lingering anger or nervousness disappear because Tony looked  _ awful  _ \- like he hadn’t bothered to shower, sleep or eat since getting back.

“Tony-” Steve began worriedly, only to be cut off by Tony.

“I’m not really in the mood to fuck, so you can just leave.”

The harshness of Tony’s words took him aback. And really? Were they back to this? To Tony trying to push him away? Steve ran a hand through his hair, “What- Tony, no. You haven’t been answering my texts or calls and I was worried.” 

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” Tony drawled and Steve held back a disbelieving scoff, “So now that your conscience has been satisfied, you can leave.” 

And yeah,  _ screw that _ . Screw not pressing the issue. Steve wasn’t going anywhere until Tony told him what was wrong so that Steve could fix it. Steve crossed his arms, “No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Ugh, you always- you’re so, so-,” Tony uncharacteristically stumbled over his words before clearly deciding to abandon describing what Steve was and exasperatedly crying out, “Fuck, maybe I just want to be alone for once!” 

Steve studied Tony with his mussed hair and dark circles underneath wild eyes. “You don’t,” Steve began, his words carefully and deliberately spoken so as not to startle Tony, “Because you put on a good front, but you hate being alone. But if you really want me to leave, I will.”

Tony stared at him, eyes flashing and mouth set in a hard line, and Steve thought that he was about to get the door slammed in his face. But then Tony sagged, all the fight appearing to drain out of him. Tony threw the door open and turned on his heel, stalking away and not bothering to look and see if Steve was following him in, which he obviously was.

In the living room, Tony collapsed on the couch and ran a tired hand over his face. 

Steve took in the mostly empty bottle of whiskey and accompanying glass on the coffee table and couldn’t help asking, “Are you drunk?”

Tony gave him a rueful look, “I was.”

Steve sat down on the couch next to Tony, carefully keeping some space between them. No matter how much Steve wanted to touch Tony, he wasn’t sure it was what Tony wanted right now. “Did something happen in LA?” Steve asked, blatantly fishing for information, “Buck sent us your articles, you looked good in the pictures.”

Tony waved a hand, “The PR stuff was fine. Well, no, it was exhausting and pointless and five days of schmoozing people made me want to claw my own face off, but it was  _ fine _ \- nothing I’m not used to anyways.”

“Alright… so was it your dad?” Steve asked, hazarding a guess. Tony didn’t talk a lot about his family, but what little Steve had been able to piece together from comments dropped here and there seemed to indicate a complicated and strained relationship with his father.

Tony’s startled expression as good as confirmed Steve’s suspicions.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively, hoping that the question wouldn’t cause Tony to close off even more.

\-------

Tony stared at Steve and couldn’t believe he was actually considering airing all of his family's dirty laundry. Because he was, considering talking about it that was. Tony didn’t really do this. He didn’t talk to anyone about his father, his mom or his problems with SI - not even Pepper. But Steve looked at him with those wide, warm, stupidly understanding blue eyes and made it feel natural for Tony to bare his soul. Steve made Tony feel like Tony could tell him anything and Steve would understand. 

So he was kind of helpless to stop the words from coming out. He didn’t tell Steve everything (telling Steve everything would require several hours and more alcohol than Tony currently had in his apartment), but he told him enough. 

He told him a little about his mom, who had divorced Howard just after Tony was born and gone back to live with her family in Italy and who had expressed little interest in getting to know her son. He described how his and Howard’s relationship had become brittle and fractured as soon as Tony had stopped making weapons for SI. Tony told him how everything that had happened afterwards - Tony’s choice to go across the country for school instead of going to Caltech, Tony’s aggressive pursuit of his own projects in SI, Tony coming out as bisexual, Tony’s partying - had only proved to Howard that Tony would never be the perfect son and scion that he wanted.

Tony didn’t tell Steve the details of his and Howard’s argument - Steve did not need to know that Howard had somehow seen what no one else had: that Tony was serious about Steve (more like seriously in love, shit Tony was such a cliché) - but he told Steve enough for him to get the general idea: that no matter what Tony did, he would somehow always fall short in Howard’s eyes.

Tony was exhausted, emotionally wrung out and hungover, and Steve was just  _ there _ , looking all sturdy and solid. So once Tony had started talking, he couldn’t stop. It was pretty horrifying and Tony knew that as soon as he did stop, he would probably be mortified (emotional coddling was definitely not what Steve had signed up for when he suggested they be fuck buddies). But it was just so cathartic, telling Steve a lot of what he had kept bottled up for eighteen years _. _ It felt like letting go. Like he was falling but it was okay because Steve was there to catch him.

Tony talked, Steve listened and incredibly, he didn’t run in the opposite direction. 

Tony laid bare his edges and his scars and Steve stayed.

Tony didn’t know what to make of that.

\-------

“I’m just never going to be the person he wants me to be,” Tony said, voice tight with pain and it made Steve livid _. _ Steve had a lot of thoughts and feelings about everything that Tony had told him (including pure astonishment that Tony had told him anything at all), but first and foremost he wanted to punch Howard Stark in the face for daring to make Tony feel like he was anything less than spectacular.

How could Tony not believe- “That’s okay, you’re perfect the way you are,” Steve said without thinking and promptly flushed. Steve didn’t know how to do this, how to make it better for Tony. And god, his words had been embarrassingly earnest, but he stood by them. It was something that Tony needed to hear.

Tony stared at him, his lips parted, before he shook his head and asked, “Perfect, huh?” with a small smile on his lips. It was the first time Tony had smiled since opening his front door and it made Steve’s heart race giddily. Maybe he wasn’t totally screwing this up.

Steve smiled back, “Yeah, perfect,” and did what he had been dying to do since he opened Tony’s front door and pulled Tony in for a hug, trying to silently tell him that it was going to be okay. Tony shuddered and then seemed to melt into the embrace. Steve stroked a hand up and down Tony’s back, and after a few minutes Tony pulled back only to clamber fully into Steve’s lap, straddling his thighs and his hands on Steve’s shoulders.

Tony ducked his head and pressed his lips to Steve’s in a kiss that was hot and insistent. Tony kissed Steve like he was trying to get lost in it, like he was trying to forget. It was a kiss full of biting nips and delving tongue, Tony’s lips bold and aggressive. Steve understood and indulged Tony for a bit, but after a few minutes, he reached up to cup Tony’s jaw and pulled away only to come back with butterfly kisses. Slowly, Steve gentled the kiss and it became quiet and soft and sweet - but no less passionate - and Tony melted into that as well with a small sigh, his body curled into Steve’s as they kissed.

Tony eventually pulled back from the kiss, but kept his forehead pressed to Steve’s and hands curled in Steve’s hair. Steve let his hands trail down Tony’s chest to settle on his hips.

Tony gazed at him, the question clear in his vulnerable brown eyes, so Steve said, “I meant it when I said I wasn’t here for that.”

“What if I want it?” Tony demanded, eyes glinting as he straightened up. But he still didn’t move off of Steve’s lap.

“Then I’ll give it to you,” Steve replied easily, “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. So if you want, we can go have sex right now or I could cook you dinner and then we could just go to sleep… together.” Steve reached up and brushed a thumb across one of the dark circles underneath Tony’s eyes.

Tony bristled, going tense, “You don’t have to-  _ take care of me _ .”

Tony looked a bit like an affronted kitten and Steve couldn’t help laughing a little. Tony shot Steve a hurt look and made to move off of Steve’s lap, but Steve curled his fingers into Tony’s hips, keeping him right where he was. Steve brushed an apologetic kiss across Tony’s cheek as Tony turned his head away, “Don’t- I mean I know you can take care of yourself, but I want to help. So, just- let me, yeah?”

Tony met Steve’s eyes again, his gaze turning speculative. “Cook me dinner you said?”

Steve grinned, relieved. Tony was going to let him do this, be there for him. “Yep, provided that you have anything edible in your kitchen, that is.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, “Pasta, maybe?”

So Steve made Tony dinner while Tony perched on the countertop and watched (“I’m supervising - making sure you don’t burn down the apartment”). Their conversation was light and teasing, and by the end of dinner, Steve finally had Tony smiling and laughing with regularity.

As they were sticking their dishes in the dishwasher, Tony caught his wrist and asked, his voice hesitant, “Are you staying?”

“If you want me to.”

Tony nodded, licking his lips, “Stay.” Tony paused and then muttered, his cheeks pink, “And thanks for tonight. For you know… listening.” Tony finished his sentence and winced, like expressing emotions literally pained him. 

Steve thought it was kind of cute and blamed his distraction with Tony’s blush for what he blurted out next. “Come home with me for Thanksgiving.”

“What?” Tony yelped, almost dropping the plate he was holding. 

“Do you already have Thanksgiving plans?” Steve asked, barreling straight ahead. His offer had been completely spur of the moment, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of Tony coming back to New York with him. All that remained was convincing Tony it was a great idea.

“No…” Tony said slowly and rather suspiciously, “My dad is going to be out of country - and we’re not really a ‘holidays’ type of family anyways - so I was just going to stay here and catch up on work. But you don’t have to-”

Steve cut Tony off, “Then come, please. If you want to that is.”

“Won’t your mom object to you dragging home random strangers?” Tony asked.

“Nah, she loves company.” Tony still looked uncertain so Steve wheedled, “Come to Brooklyn. We’ll eat turkey and you can make fun of all the baby photos my mom will probably show you. Oh, and Bucky will probably be around for part of the break too.” Steve didn’t know why it felt so important for Tony to come home with him, just that it did.

Tony finally grinned, “Well, if Barnes is going to be there-” and laughed when Steve lightly hip-checked him. “Yeah, okay babe, I’ll come home with you for Thanksgiving.”

“Okay,” Steve replied, relieved.

“Okay,” Tony echoed, his smile firmly back in place.

\-------

**About a week later. The day before Thanksgiving. Brooklyn, New York.**

Tony wiped sweaty hands on his pants and firmly told himself that  _ everything was going to be fine _ as he and Steve walked up the drive to Steve’s house. After all, it was totally normal for your fuck-buddy to invite you home to meet their family for the holidays, right? 

Steve glanced over at him and then asked incredulously, “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Tony lied.

“You are!” Steve exclaimed, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before. It’s kind of ado-”

“Finish that sentence and die, Rogers,” Tony growled.

Steve grinned and knocked their shoulders together. “Don’t worry, my mom will like you just fine,” he said, neatly pinpointing the reason Tony felt more like he was approaching a firing squad rather than a weekend spent with the Rogers’.

“Historically, that has not been my experience. Parents don’t like me. Apparently, I’m a ‘bad influence’ - well, at least according to Pepper’s mom.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, pausing before continuing thoughtfully, “But maybe I won’t mention the gang I’ve joined since we became friends.”

“ _ Steve _ ,” hissed Tony and Steve laughed brightly before ducking down to buss a kiss across Tony’s cheek which placated him somewhat.

“Relax, I’ve already told my mom plenty of good things about you.” Tony breathed a sigh of relief which was apparently premature since Steve smirked and continued, “And I’m almost positive that they’ll balance out all the awful things I’ve also told-” Tony’s shove sent Steve stumbling as he cracked up again.

\-------

Steve unlocked and opened the front door of his house, calling out, “Ma, I’m home,” and a moment later, he was being enveloped in a hug. Despite his mom being more than half a foot shorter than Steve now, her hugs still had the power to make him feel like a little kid - safe, warm and unapologetically loved. 

Slim, blond, and standing at five foot five, Sarah Rogers was a force to be reckoned with. She had raised Steve singlehandedly while working practically full time as a nurse. For years she had scrimped, saved and sacrificed in order to give Steve the best opportunities she could while he was growing up. The only time Steve could remember seeing her cry was the day he received his acceptance - and full scholarship - to Harvard. These days, and after years spent working her way up through the ranks, she ran the local hospital’s emergency department with an iron fist. 

“Steve,” Sarah said warmly, pulling back from the hug and studying him. She frowned, “You look pale, have you been sleeping?”

Steve laughed, “Thanks ma, you look good to.”

Sarah scoffed lightly before turning to greet Tony, “And you must be Tony. I’m so glad you could come.”

“Mom, this is Tony Stark, my friend from Helping Hands. Tony, this is my mom, Sarah Rogers,” Steve dutifully rattled off, knowing he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his mom if he failed to make a proper introduction.

“Thanks so much for having me Mrs. Rogers,” Tony said, his dazzling smile on full display. “This is for you,” Tony added, taking out from his bag what appeared to be a tin of assorted, hand-decorated cookies, “They’re from the Boston Public Market and were freshly baked this morning.”

“They’re lovely Tony, thank you. And please, call me Sarah,” his mom exclaimed before rounding on Steve with an arched brow, “And what did you bring me?”

“Um, myself and laundry?” Steve answered sheepishly and Sarah laughed, reaching up to pat his cheek. Behind her back, Steve - who had had no idea that Tony was planning on bringing something - shot a glare at Tony who was looking entirely too smug.

“You better watch out honey or Tony might be the only person I invite back for Christmas break,” Sarah said, “Now come in both of you, dinner’s almost ready.”

\-------

Dinner was delicious but Tony was somewhat distracted from the food by the subtlest and most terrifying interrogation he had ever been victim to. Sarah Rogers was somehow managing to delicately extract all sorts of information from him, her interest in Tony running the gamut from his studies to his family to his plans for the future. 

After a few minutes of Tony giving strangled and stilted answers (how was it that he could calmly face groups of rabid reporters at SI press conferences, but questions from Steve’s mom somehow made him trip over every other word), he felt a nudge against his foot under the table. Tony looked up to find Steve smiling at him from across the table and felt himself relax. And so with Steve’s foot resting against his, Tony took a deep breath and decided to take Steve’s advice and just be himself. 

Surprisingly, it worked. 

By the end of dinner, Tony was talking animatedly with Sarah about recent advances in medical technology and how to make sure patients were getting both the best care but also care that was proper and affordable.

After they were done eating Sarah waved off their offers to help clean up. Full and happy, Tony grinned at Steve, “So what now?”

Steve smiled back, “Want a tour?”

\-------

After showing Tony the rest of the house - which hadn’t taken long, it was pretty tiny house - they ended up back in living room which was home to the promised baby pictures of Steve as well as a variety of other photos of Steve growing up, but Steve was kind of hoping that Tony wouldn’t notice-

“Oh my god, is that you?” Tony exclaimed gleefully pointing to a picture of Steve in middle school, back before the resolution of a lot of his health issues and definitely before his growth spurt.  
“Yep. I told you that I was small and pretty sickly as a kid.”

“You were adorable,” Tony cooed.

Steve snorted, “Please you wouldn’t have looked twice at me back then.” 

Tony grinned at him, “I don’t know. If we had met back then, you probably would have been just as stupidly argumentative - despite being half my side - and I wouldn’t have been able to resist arguing back.”

“Ah yes,” Steve said, “How I like to make all my friends: arguing until I wear them down.”

“Worked on me,” Tony said blithely. Steve rolled his eyes but Tony just gave him a look and added, his voice strangely serious, “I think I’d always look at you twice, no matter what body you’re in.”

Steve blinked, surprised and unsure of how to respond. But thankfully, Tony didn’t seem to require an answer since he had immediately gone back to studying the wall of photos. After another moment, Tony tapped a different photo and asked, “Who’s this? She’s in a couple of your more recent pictures.” 

Steve looked at the photo. It was a picture of him, Bucky, and - “Peggy Carter. We met in high school and became friends. We even dated for a bit towards the end of senior year.”

Tony slanted an appraising look at him, “A girlfriend. Huh.”

Steve laughed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” Tony exclaimed holding up his hands, “She’s pretty. Why’d you two break up?”

Steve shrugged, “We were going to separate colleges - me to Harvard and her to Georgetown - and decided that we didn’t want to try to deal with a long distance relationship. We’re still good friends though, all three of us. She’s actually coming up to visit me and Buck next weekend since she couldn’t come home and see us this weekend.”

Tony hummed, “Speaking of Barnes, where is he?”

Steve smiled, “He’s in Philly tomorrow and Friday visiting family. Should be back on Saturday though.”

“Ugh, so that means we actually do have to see him?”

“Probably,” Steve said and watched as Tony squinted at another photo.

“Do you have a black eye in this picture?” Tony asked, tilting his head and looking intently at a picture of a young Steve where he was indeed sporting a black eye, a bloody nose and a cut lip, but he was also grinning at the camera, his arm slung around Bucky’s shoulders.

“Yep, it was taken after Bucky and I got into uh- a bit of a scrap with the neighborhood bully after he was picking on some little - well, littler than us - girls.”

Tony shot him an amused look, “A not terribly uncommon occurrence with you, huh? But why’d your mom decide to put it up on the ‘Steve Rogers Memorial Wall?’”

Steve gave the photo a considering look. “She was proud of me I think, for standing up for what I thought was right even though she disapproved of me fighting. When I was little and would come home upset about being called shrimp or four-eyes or whatever other unimaginative name the other kids had come up with that day, she would always tell me that a strong heart would take me further than any physical strength. And when I wanted to give up, she would tell me that having a strong heart means never quitting.”

Tony gave him a surprised look. He probably hadn’t been expecting such an intense answer from Steve and Steve himself was a little shocked by how much he had already revealed to Tony about his past.

Steve didn’t tend to talk about his childhood a lot. Even Bucky who had been there for most it had never really known how hard things had been, how bad things had gotten at times. But here Steve was. By inviting Tony back home with him, he had literally thrown open the doors to his past for Tony. It was pretty personal, but he trusted Tony with it. He trusted Tony period.

“Want to talk about it?” Tony asked after a beat of silence and Steve shook his head, smiling.

“Nah, there’s not too much else to tell. Mostly just that I never would have made it to where I am today without my ma.” Steve didn’t really want to talk more about his past right now, but it was nice knowing that Tony was there and willing to listen when Steve decided he did want to share; Tony’s quiet support like the gentle warmth of a fire.

“She’s great,” Tony said softly, “You deserve it.”

That made Steve frown. Family wasn’t something that you  _ deserved _ . Family was supposed to be love that was unconditional - support without qualifications and stipulations. And just because Tony didn’t have it didn’t mean he didn’t deserve it. Steve grabbed Tony’s hand with his own and squeezed. “So do you,” he said, silently vowing to make this the best Thanksgiving possible for Tony.

\-------

Post-breakfast on Thanksgiving morning found Tony and Steve having a stare off. "So," Steve began, “I usually spend the day cooking with my ma. You can watch? Or maybe there’s something on TV-”

Instead of answering, Tony crossed his arms and gave Steve an affronted little huff before turning and stalking into the kitchen, an amused Steve trailing behind him.

Steve's mom had already started to assembling ingredients. "What can I do to help?" Tony asked.

"Um, maybe that’s not the best-" Steve interjected, worried for both the integrity of the kitchen (they had to have a fire extinguisher somewhere right?) and the edibility of any food Tony might touch, but his mom cut him off.

"Hush. Of course Tony can help. Tony, why don't you start with chopping onions for the stuffing. Steve, you can help me dress the turkey."

"Sure thing!" Tony said cheerfully and Steve apprehensively watched Tony pick up a knife. But apparently he shouldn’t have been worried because Tony proceeded to expertly dice the onions, knife moving quickly and confidently like this was MasterChef and not the Rogers’ kitchen.

“You can cook!” Steve accused feeling rather betrayed, and Tony shot him a smug look.

“Steve, I’ve been living on my own for two years. Did you think I was surviving on ramen?”

“More like coffee and takeout." Steve paused before exclaiming (with no small amount of outrage), "How was supposed to know you cook? You always make me do it!”

Tony grinned impishly, “Just because I can cook doesn’t mean I’m not incredibly lazy. And plus, you're always so easy to convince.”

“Who taught you to cook Tony?” Steve’s mom interjected and Tony turned to her.

“My butler-slash-babysitter Jarvis. I spent a lot of time bothering him while he was in the kitchen cooking and picked up a few things. He passed away a few years ago and cooking always reminds me of him,” Tony said with a soft smile.

“That’s lovely,” Sarah said.

After a few moments of silence while they all worked, Steve couldn’t help hip-checking Tony lightly and asking, “You know what this means right?” Tony just gave him a blank look and Steve grinned triumphantly, “Now that I know, from now on, I’m definitely making  _ you _ cook for  _ me _ .”

Steve couldn’t help laughing at Tony’s look of outraged horror.

\-------

After about an hour of companionable cooking punctuated, Sarah hummed consideringly and looked up at Tony, “Tony, I think we could use some more butter for the stuffing. There’s a small market at the end of the street, would you mind running out a grabbing a few more sticks?”

“Sure thing,” Tony said with an easy smile and a moment later Steve heard the front door open and close. Alone with his mom for the first time since coming home, Steve had a dawning sense of suspicion that Tony’s temporary absence had been carefully orchestrated.

For the next few minutes, Steve and his mom worked together in comfortable silence, Steve peeling potatoes as Sarah made pumpkin pie filling. As Steve peeled, he noticed his mom shooting sidelong glances at him out of the corner of his eye and quietly braced himself for the incoming interrogation. Part of Steve was surprised that she had restrained herself so long. After all, Sarah had spent most of dinner last night and their time cooking together this morning gazing speculatively at him and Tony when Tony wasn’t looking.

“So, Tony is lovely,” Sarah opened with.

“Yeah, Tony’s great,” Steve agreed hoping that would be the end of it. Obviously, it wasn’t. His ma was like a shark that had smelled blood in the water.

There was silence for a few more moments and then his mom went all in, “And I’ve always wanted you to bring someone special home.”

Steve almost dropped the potato he was peeling. “We’re not- Tony doesn’t-” Steve scrambled to come up with a coherent answer of what exactly Tony was to him before giving up and declaring, “It’s complicated,” and looking back down to give the potatoes his full attention. Maybe that would be enough.

After a moment, Steve felt his mom’s hand cupping his cheek and he looked up to meet her eyes. Sarah’s sharp gaze softened, “You know that whatever you decide you want with Tony, it’s fine. Well obviously you know it’s fine, but I meant that I’d be okay. If he makes you happy…” Sarah trailed of before shrugging and smiling, “Well, if you’re happy then I’m happy.”

Steve felt the knot of tension he hadn’t even realized was inside of him uncoil. He hadn’t known he was worried about his mom’s reaction to his new orientation until she had made it clear that there was nothing for him to worry about.

Steve grinned, “Thanks ma, love you.”

Sarah’s eyes twinkled and she lightly rapped Steve’s still hands with the handle of her spoon, “I love you too, now enough dilly-dallying. Those potatoes aren’t going to peel themselves.”

\-------

Thanksgiving dinner was fantastic. Knowing how much effort you had put into making the food just made everything taste  _ better _ . It reminded Tony how much he actually enjoyed cooking and made him actually look forward to Steve mercilessly exploiting his knowledge of Tony’s culinary skills once they were back in Boston. 

At the end of the meal which had been filled with good conversation and even better laughter, Tony looked up to find Steve staring at him.

Tony blinked, not knowing what he had done to make Steve look at him like that - all soft and fond and bright and happy - but he knew that he never wanted to stop making Steve look just that content.

Tony gazed back at Steve and tried to silently thank him. Being here with Steve and his mom was the most at home Tony could remember feeling in years.

\-------

**The next day.**

Steve was doing homework at the kitchen table on Friday morning when Tony stumbled in from the living room (where he was sleeping on the daybed), still in has pajamas and eyes barely open.

Tony’s bleary gaze fixed on Steve and he mumbled, “Coffee.”

Steve couldn’t tell if that was a question, a request, or just the only word that Tony was capable of producing this early, but he got up and fixed Tony a cup the way he knew he liked and handed it over.

Tony downed the entire cup in seconds and made a rather indecent sound of satisfaction.

“Good morning,” Steve said drily.

“Morning,” Tony said, his voice still a little sleep-rough. Tony glanced down at the table then back up at Steve and then back down at the table. “Wait,” he said, sounding more alert and pretty incredulous, “Are you doing  _ homework? _ ”

“Yes?” Steve answered.

“No. Nuh uh. Definitely not allowed. Even though we’re in  _ Brooklyn,  _ this still counts as vacation.”

“Well, what would you recommend I do instead? And hey! Brooklyn is the bes-”

“Where’s your mom?” Tony asked, cutting off Steve’s defense of his hometown.

“What? Oh, uh she’s at work. She had yesterday off but has a shift today,” Steve said.

“Perfect,” Tony said and proceeded to climb onto Steve’s lap and kiss him. Tony’s lips were soft and warm and Steve didn’t even try to stop himself from licking into Tony’s mouth, arms sliding around Tony’s back and pulling him close. Tony tasted like coffee and toothpaste and himself and Steve reveled in it - in the heat of the kiss and in the way Tony fit just right against him.

Tony broke this kiss, a flush already starting to stain his cheeks, and bit his lip, smiling cheekily. “You know, I was already planning on spending the day in bed, so I might as well spend it there with you.”

Steve fought down a smile, “Do those lines usually work for you?”

Tony leaned forward to gently nip at Steve’s bottom lip before soothing it with kiss and pulling back. “I don’t know, you tell me,” Tony said, looking pretty satisfied with himself.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, gently dislodging Tony from his lap and standing up, “But I would like the record to show that I’m doing this in spite of that line, not because of it.”

Tony pressed himself against Steve and pulled him down for another blistering, but unfortunately short-lived kiss. It was a pretty effective rejoinder. And really, Tony could say whatever he wanted so long as he kept kissing Steve like that.

\-------

Tony followed Steve down the hallway to his room, his hand firmly clasped in Steve’s. As soon as they were inside and behind a closed door, Steve tugged him forward into another kiss, mouth hot and wet and their tongues tangling together. Tony groaned.  _ Fuck,  _ it had been way too long -  _ days -  _ since he had had Steve kissing him like this, all deep and full of promise; a fucking tantalizing promise that Tony was going to make sure Steve fulfilled.

Tony pulled back, stripped off his shirt, and gave Steve an appraising look, fingers playing with the edge of Steve’s sweater, occasionally brushing smooth skin. “You know that sweater looks really good on you, but it would look even better on the floor,” Tony said, really bringing his seduction A-game.

Steve broke at that, laughing brightly, but he did let Tony pull the sweater up over his head and drop it to the floor, so Tony counted it as a win.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve said.

“Yeah, but you like it,” Tony declared and was proven right when Steve reeled him back in for another kiss. Tony gasped a little at the press of their chests together and Steve took advantage of it to slide his tongue into Tony’s mouth, deepening their kiss with scorching intent. Lust was already starting to lick and curl up Tony’s spine and it intensified ten-fold when Steve took advantage of Tony’s bare chest to brush his fingers across Tony’s nipple, pinching and rolling it as Tony arched into the touch.

“Pants off and bed,” Tony mumbled against Steve’s lips, desperate to move things along.

Steve grinned, lips curving against Tony’s, “These lines are just getting worse and worse, you’re lucky I’m already invested in this.”

“Less talking and more getting naked,” Tony demanded, taking a much needed step back from Steve so he could focus on the difficult task of undoing the button of his pants without being distracted by Steve’s everything.

“Yes sir,” Steve said with a little salute and  _ god _ , he was such a dork and Tony loved him so much it hurt. With quick efficient motions, Steve shucked his pants and boxers and Tony took a moment to admire the sight of Steve naked in front of him, his beautiful muscles on display and gorgeous cock well on its way to hard.

“Fucking unreal,” Tony muttered before recapturing Steve’s mouth in a heated kiss. Tony took advantage of all the skin on display and let his hands roam freely, loving the way Steve shivered and pressed into Tony’s touch. Steve felt divine and tasted even better, his mouth slick and pliant under Tony’s. Tony couldn’t help himself, he trailed a hand down Steve’s chest and then gripped Steve’s hot shaft, stroking the hard and silky flesh firmly and loving the way Steve groaned, his hips bucking into Tony’s hand.

Still tangled together with lips fused, Steve walked them backwards until they tumbled onto Steve’s bed, Steve landing on his back and Tony on top of him. It was really working for Tony, having Steve spread out underneath him and looking better than anything Tony had ever seen before in his life.

Still straddling Steve, Tony sat back on Steve’s thighs and took the opportunity to just touch, smoothing hands across Steve’s chest and abdominals as he moved his hips in tiny hitching motions that rubbed their cocks together, ensuring a delicious, sticky slide that sent sparks of heat dancing along Tony’s nerves. He was already so hard that he ached.

“God, Tony,” Steve breathed out, his hands gripping Tony’s hips tightly enough to leave bruises as he rocked up against Tony and suddenly just touching wasn’t enough - Tony wanted to taste. Sliding back off of Steve’s lap and ignoring the disappointed groan that Steve let out, Tony knelt between Steve’s legs and gripped Steve’s erection, swiping a thumb across the top of the head to collect the pre-cum gathered there before lifting his hand up and licking it off, dragging his lips around his thumb exactly the way he wanted to drag them around Steve’s dick.

It was a visual that seemed to be working for Steve. 

“Fuck,” Steve said, drawing out the word, his voice strained, “You’re going to kill me.”

Tony smirked, “I’m certainly going to give it my best shot,” and leaned down to take the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth and  _ suck _ . Steve groaned again and the hand that wasn’t clenched in the sheets of the bed flew to Tony’s head. 

Fingers threaded through Tony’s hair, more cradling his head than anything else as Tony worked his mouth up and down, taking Steve’s cock deeper and deeper with each pass until he had almost the entirety of it in his mouth. Tony loved the weight of Steve on his tongue, the stretch of his mouth around Steve’s cock, and the little sounds of pleasure Steve was making. It was all Tony could do to keep from touching himself as he worked Steve over, but he didn’t want this to be over yet.

Regretfully, Tony pulled off of Steve’s cock and Steve let out a desperate, “Tony.” 

Tony looked up to find Steve flushed and disheveled. As Tony watched, Steve’s tongue flicked out to swipe along his kiss-bitten lips. “Want something sweetheart?” Tony asked innocently.

Steve’s eyes glittered and he shot back, “Yeah. For you to go back to what you were doing.” 

Tony grinned. That was practically an engraved invitation - one that Tony definitely would be taking. Tony ran soothing hands along Steve’s spread thighs before moving forward to suck one of Steve’s balls into his mouth. He spent some time paying attention to Steve’s sack, licking and mouthing and after a moment, Tony pressed fingers against Steve’s perineum, massaging the skin there. 

Steve practically growled, his hips rolling. 

And then- “You should fuck me.”

Tony jerked his head up so fast that he almost fell backward off of the bed. Because Steve had not just said what Tony thought he had. “What?” Tony breathed out, staring at Steve.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and fixing Tony with a determined look and repeated, “You should fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” Tony blurted out before he could stop himself. Fuck. Was he actually trying to talk Steve out of this? Tony was clearly going insane.

Steve bit his lip. “I’ll like it, I think. I touched myself there, thinking of you… and your hands. Your hands that I can never stop staring at when you’re in your lab and working-” Steve trailed off

Tony felt a wave of pure want slam into him at Steve’s words. “Did it feel good?” Tony asked, desperate for the answer. Desperate for the answer to be-

“Yes,” Steve said, “I want your fingers. I want your-” Steve broke off, his head turning away and cheeks flushing even further if that was possible.

But Tony was having none of that. “You want what? My cock, maybe. You want me inside of you, filling you up perfectly?” Tony asked, hand reaching out to grip Steve’s shaft and Steve moaned, closing his eyes briefly before he opened them again, met Tony’s gaze, and nodded. And fuck, the heat, the sheer desire in Steve’s eyes made Tony feel breathless

_Oh shit,_ thought Tony, looking at Steve. He wasn’t going to survive this. He was already so close to the edge from just the _thought_ of being inside of Steve. And even if Tony could begin to believe that Steve wanted this, he couldn’t fathom the fact that Steve apparently trusted Tony to be the one to give it to him. It was terrifying and motivating and thrilling all at once. _Damn_. Tony was not going to fuck this up. He was going to make it so good for Steve. Steve was going to love every fucking second of what Tony was going to do to him. Tony was _determined_ and he knew exactly where he wanted to start.

“Maybe you don’t just want my fingers and my cock. Maybe you want my tongue too.”

Steve’s eyes - which had slipped closed as Tony stroked him - snapped open. “What?” he asked, voice raspy with arousal.

Tony let his fingers play along the skin behind Steve’s balls, teasing and just shy of where he really wanted to put them. “My tongue opening you up,” he clarified, watching as Steve’s eyes went dark and stormy, “Getting you loose and wet and ready for me.”

Steve shuddered before nodding jerkily and triumph surged through Tony. “I’m going to give it to you darling. Anything you want, always. Now flip over for me baby.” 

And Steve did, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in a pillow as he spread his legs for Tony. Tony couldn’t keep himself from touching if he tried. He reached out to cup Steve’s round, toned cheeks, kneading the firm flesh and frankly worshipping what was without a doubt the best ass he had ever laid eyes on. God, Tony was so lucky.

Steve pushed back into Tony’s grip and Tony couldn’t help praising, “So beautiful angel.” 

Tony parted Steve’s cheeks and ran a thumb down the crevice and over Steve’s hole and below him, Steve gasped. And then Tony leaned down and bit one of Steve’s cheeks, causing Steve to jerk forward with a surprised grunt.

“Mmm,” Tony hummed, “I think you like that. Don’t worry, you’re going to like what’s coming even better.” And when Steve just responded by widening the spread of his legs, Tony decided the time for teasing was over. Spreading Steve’s cheeks apart once more, Tony licked across Steve’s hole before returning with his tongue to tease at Steve’s rim.

The sound that Steve made at the first touch of Tony’s tongue was  _ glorious _ . And when Steve arched his back further and pushed back against Tony’s tongue as if desperate for more, Tony couldn’t stop his own groan of arousal from slipping out. He loved the taste of Steve, he always did. Tony was greedy for it. He always wanted to have his mouth on Steve - it didn’t matter where. And watching Steve fall apart under his tongue made Tony feel like the most powerful person in the world. 

\-------

Steve’s heart was racing and his breathing was ragged and every time the wet warmth Tony’s tongue moved across or -  _ fuck  _ \- inside Steve’s hole his entire brain shut down as he simply savored the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through and lighting up his entire body.

God, this had to be the kinkiest, the most… depraved thing that Steve had ever done in his life and he loved every fucking second of it. Then the tip of Tony’s finger joined his tongue and slowly started to work its way inside of him and Steve couldn’t help grinding his almost painfully hard cock against the bed underneath him.

The stretch and the burn of having something in him was still such a new sensation, but knowing that it was  _ Tony  _ \- and Tony’s finger making room for Tony’s cock - made it unbelievably erotic. And when Tony finally had a full finger inside of him, moving it perfectly to brush against Steve’s prostate - the bright spark of pure pleasure making Steve forget any discomfort - Steve couldn’t help growling and pushing back into the sensation.

“More,” he demanded, looking over his shoulder at Tony, “I want more.”

Tony raised his head and slowly withdrew his finger, making Steve gasp. “Yeah babe?” Tony asked, “How do you want it?”

Steve took a second to work out what Tony meant before rolling over again so he was on his back once more. He reached for Tony, pulling him down on top of him. “This. I want it like this. Want to see you,” Steve said before pulling Tony forward for a kiss that quickly became messily desperate, both of them riding the fine edge between pleasure and restraint.

“Fuck, okay,” Tony said pulling back from Steve’s mouth after a few long, indulgent moments “More, you want more and I’m going to give it to you.” In a flash, Tony had retrieved lube and a condom (and quickly rolled it on) from Steve’s bedside drawer and then he was back, spreading Steve’s legs and lifting one until it was folded up against Steve’s chest.

Tony leaned down to kiss him again, one hand braced by his head as the other moved to tease Steve’s opening with slick fingers. As Tony eased a single finger back into him, he pulled back and asked, “This okay?”

“God yes,” Steve said breathlessly, rolling his hips as he snaked a hand down to grip and work his cock. It felt fucking amazing.

“Good,” Tony purred, his mouth curving in a self-satisfied smirk and a moment later, he was slowly working in two fingers. Steve gasped and arched into the sensation and Tony murmured, “Yeah sweetheart, that’s it. You’re taking my fingers so good. Fuck babe, it’s going to feel even better when it’s my cock.”

And damn, the sensation of Tony’s fingers hitting his prostate coupled with Tony’s frankly filthy mouth had Steve so close to coming that he had to grip the base of his cock to stave it off. He wanted Tony inside of him when he came. He needed Tony inside of him.

Steve hadn’t been lying when he had told Tony that he wanted this; that he had fingered himself imagining that it was Tony doing it instead. It was incredibly intimate, the thought of having someone inside of him for the first time, but Steve wanted Tony to be the one he shared it with. Steve was ready. He wanted to give this to Tony. In fact, he wanted to give Tony everything.

Long minutes later, Tony pulled out three fingers (and when had Tony even moved on to three fingers? God Steve was really blissed out), leaving him feeling strangely empty, and asked, “You okay?” Steve licked his lips. He was nervous but he was also desperate to have Tony in him. “Fuck Steve,” Tony continued, “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you. You’re fucking incredible. I can’t believe…” Tony trailed off, the depth of his emotions clear in his eyes.

And suddenly it was as easy as breathing for Steve to tell Tony, “Take me, have me.”

\-------

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself after Steve’s words had almost shattered him. Because what Steve had offered ( _ take me, have me _ ) was all that Tony wanted in the world: for Steve to be  _ his _ . And Tony knew it wasn’t going to happen, not really. But he did get to have this, to have Steve’s body, and when the sex was this incredible and this fucking  _ profound  _ it was almost enough.

Bracing himself over Steve, he slowly pushed inside Steve’s tight, hot hole. It took every ounce of self-control Tony had to keep from slamming forward - God Steve felt fucking incredible - but he managed a slow and measured slide, his gaze fixed on Steve’s wide, pleasure-bright eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Steve breathed out when Tony was all the way inside, his nails digging into Tony’s back and legs hitched around Tony’s waist. 

To distract himself, Tony ducked down to press light kisses against Steve’s mouth, his cheek, his jaw before asking again, “You okay?” 

Steve nodded, “Yeah.” He licked his lips, “You can move. I want you to move.”

Tony let out a strangled laugh, “Oh thank god. You feel amazing, I can’t even begin to describe- so hot, so tight, so goddamn perfect.” And as he talked, Tony began a slow, sensual roll of his hips.

“Oh shit,  _ Tony _ ,” Steve gasped around a moan.

It only took a few moments for Steve to begin arching into every thrust, an expression of pure bliss racing across his features every time Tony hit the perfect place inside of him. Steve’s hands stroked restlessly up and down Tony’s back until one reached up to cup Tony’s head and pull him down into a sweetly hot kiss.

Steve and Tony kissed breathlessly as Tony continued the languid rock of his hips and the air between them became warm and heavy. With sweat slicking the way, the glide of their bodies together was almost effortless and the pleasure Tony was feeling was  _ unreal _ . 

Tony tried to distract himself by focusing purely on Steve, by making sure that each of his thrusts hit Steve in just the right place. But looking at Steve below him and seeing the desire and what looked like fucking  _ adoration _ in his eyes made Tony feel like he was spinning out of control.  _ Fuck _ , it was just so unbearably intimate having Steve like this. This wasn’t just sex. In fact, it hadn’t been  _ just sex _ for quite a while now - maybe even since the first time they had hooked up - but it had taken Tony this long to admit it. 

Sex with Steve had had always been fantastic - mind-blowingly hot - but it was also something more. It was deep, personal, and  _ significant.  _ Goddamn. Tony was actually going to think it. It wasn’t just fucking, it was making love, at least for him. And when Steve looked at him like  _ that  _ \- like Tony was everything that was right with the world - it made Tony feel like this might be just as earth shattering for Steve as it was for him.

All of a sudden, Tony couldn’t bear the leisurely pace anymore. “Steve, I need-” Tony broke off, overcome, but Steve somehow seemed to know exactly what Tony wanted.

“Yeah,” he murmured against Tony’s lips, hands sliding down Tony’s back to grip his ass, “Come on.”

\-------

Steve felt out of his mind with want. Each of Tony’s languid thrusts felt like a brand, a burst of white-hot pleasure that made him practically see stars. And having Tony so close - over him, in him, gazing at him - just made everything that much more soul-splittingly intense. 

When Steve gave his permission and Tony started to really move, his hips pistoning in and out of Steve, Steve knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold out for much longer. Steve had barely touched his cock since Tony had slid into him, but he was almost there and oh so ready to tip over the edge. 

And then Tony snaked a hand between them, stroking Steve with his already slick hand. Once, twice, three times and that was it, Steve was coming, spurting between them as his orgasm slammed into him with all the force of a wrecking ball. 

Above him, Tony closed his eyes and came as well with a punched-out, “Steve,  _ Steve _ ,” his climax appearing to hit him similarly hard.

Steve lay there and he felt fractured, stunned in the wake of his orgasm and almost unable to believe what had just happened. The pleasure had been so intense it had almost been painful and Steve felt unmoored, adrift. But then he met Tony’s gaze - Tony, who was still inside of him and who was looking down at him with wide, dazed eyes and a soft smile - and felt everything inside of him snap back into place.

Steve smiled back at Tony and then he laughed out of sheer joy and a moment later, he pulled Tony down for a kiss.

\-------

**The day after.**

They spent Saturday morning in the city because there was a new exhibit on Valentin de Boulogne at the Met that Steve wanted to see and that Tony had dutifully agreed to tag along to. The got back to Brooklyn in the afternoon only to find a handwritten note from Steve’s mom tacked to the fridge saying that she was out with friends and would be back later in the evening.

Tony waggled his eyebrows at Steve, “Soooo, wanna go despoil the innocence of your teenage bedroom again?”

“Well when you say it like that, how could I possible refuse?” Steve replied drily, but eagerly followed Tony up the stairs to his room.

Tony pushed Steve down so he was lying on the bed and quickly moved on top of him, bracing his hands on either side of Steve’s head as he pressed their lips together in heated kiss, tongue darting out for a taste of Steve’s mouth. As they kissed, mouths hot and slick, Steve smoothed hands down Tony’s back, enjoying the lean muscle he found there, before gripping Tony’s exceptional ass and encouraging Tony to rock down, meeting the roll of Tony’s hips with his own in motion that had them both gasping in pleasure.

Tony broke their kiss, body still moving against Steve’s, and grinned down at him, “Wanted to do that in the museum. You’re hot when you talk about art.”

“Really?” Steve said skeptically. Usually people got bored pretty quickly when Steve started talking about art.

“Mhm,” murmured Tony, ducking his head to kiss down Steve’s throat which felt  _ amazing _ , “You get really intense and your eyes do this flashing thing when you get excited about a piece. S’cute.”

“It seems like you spent more time looking at me than looking at the art.”

“Well…” Tony trailed off, raising his head.

“Tony,” Steve said disapprovingly.

Tony grinned, unrepentant, and ground down again against Steve’s body, making him groan.  “Steve, do you really want to have this discussion now?” Tony asked.

“I suppose it can wait,” Steve said rather breathlessly and pulled a laughing Tony back down for a kiss. And just as things were progressing nicely - both Tony and Steve stripping off their shirts as they kissed so that they could enjoy the press of smooth, heated skin on skin - the door to Steve’s room banged open.

A lot of things happened very quickly. 

“Steve!” cried out Bucky, “I’m back- holy shit, Tony?”

Tony jerked upwards and stared at Bucky with wide, horrified eyes before scrambling off of Steve and pulling his t-shirt back on.

Steve stared dumbfounded at Bucky from the bed.

“Holy shit,” Bucky repeated, gaze flicking back and forth between Tony and Steve, “Are you two-”  
“Buck!” Steve interjected desperately, “Can I talk to you for a second - in private.” Steve stood up and grabbed for his own shirt, pulling it over his head. Glancing at Tony and taking in his ashen face and lower lip caught between teeth, Steve internally cursed. “Tony-” he broke off, not knowing what to say. Eventually, trying for a reassuring smile, he continued, “Just give us a sec, okay? And don’t go anywhere.”

Tony nodded tightly and Steve seized Bucky by the arm, towing him outside.

Steve dragged a still spluttering Bucky down the hallway before opening the door the bathroom and pushing Bucky inside. Steve stepped inside after him and closed the door. Bucky stared at Steve with wide eyes and Steve stared back, mind racing. 

Damn. This was- this was _not_ _good_. Shit. Bucky was probably going to yell and make Steve feel all kinds of guilty for not telling him about this and Tony- _fuck_ \- Tony was probably back in Steve’s room freaking out and planning how he was going to end things between them. Because other people knowing about them was not what Tony had wanted out of this arrangement, but now Bucky knew and he and Tony were probably going to have stop, but just the thought of stopping made Steve’s head pound and stomach churn. What was he going to say to Tony? What was he going to say to _Bucky_?

“So, you and Tony?” Bucky’s question interrupted Steve’s panicked spiral of thoughts.

“Um-” Steve said scrambling for an explanation, but Bucky just plowed forward.

“I mean I knew you were in love with him, but I thought it would be months before you actually realized it - since he has a dick and all and that’s new for you - and then a few more months after that before you actually got your shit together enough to do anything about it-”

It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning. 

In the background Bucky kept rambling on about something or other while Steve was left reeling from Bucky’s simple declaration. 

_ I knew you were in love with him. _

Suddenly his complicated tangle of thoughts and feelings concerning Tony didn’t seem that complicated anymore because - “Holy shit, I’m in love with Tony,” Steve said faintly.

How had he not realized? It was so fucking obvious. Tony was…  _ integral _ , as necessary to him as breathing. Having Tony in his life made everything better. 

Although, to be fair, Steve had never been in love before.

It was kind of terrifying.

Steve did not know how to handle this.

It didn’t matter how fast Steve ran or how much he studied, this was not a problem that was just going to go away. 

Because even though Steve loved Tony, Tony obviously didn’t love him back.

Yet.

Bucky cut off in the middle of whatever he had been ranting about to look at Steve with a confused expression. “Well obviously you’re in lo-” Bucky began before pausing, realization slowly dawning on his face, “What do you mean ‘holy shit, I’m in love with Tony?’ Did you just realize that?”

Steve looked away guiltily. 

“ _ Steve _ ,” Bucky groaned, “Damn, you have got to be one of the stupidest smart people I have ever met. Wait a second, if you only just noticed that you’re in love with Tony, then what exactly are you two doing?”

“Uh, we’re friends with benefits?” Steve said tentatively. Which in hindsight, seemed like a monumentally idiotic idea. How could Steve have ever thought that a no-strings-attached arrangement would work between them? Steve wanted all of the strings with Tony and he had clearly wanted them for a while now, he just hadn’t realized what it meant until Bucky had labeled it so plainly.

Bucky glanced heavenwards, as if asking for patience - which Steve thought was frankly a little over dramatic. And then, “What the fuck Steve?!” Bucky yelled, “Who's fucking brilliant idea was that?”

“Mine?” Steve replied weakly.

Bucky closed his eyes and took several deep, apparently calming breaths, before opening them again. “Okay, okay. So you and Tony have a no-strings-attached thing going on but you’re in love with him. We can figure this out - what’s your game plan here?”

And even though Steve felt about the furthest thing from happy right now, he couldn’t help smiling a little; he was so lucky to have Bucky in his corner. “Well first you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone - not even Nat.”

Bucky frowned a little, “Why?”

Steve sighed, “Because Tony is probably going to flip out that  _ you  _ know and if he thought that everyone knew, he’d probably run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.” Just the thought of Tony breaking off their arrangement - especially now that Steve knew how he felt about him - made Steve feel sick. 

Bucky tilted his head, “I don’t know… Steve, how do you think Tony feels about you?”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, “I have no fucking clue. So I need time - time to figure this out, time to convince Tony that we’d be… good together.” Steve could see it so clearly; they would be extraordinary together.

“I think you should just tell him. Right now.”

Steve gave Bucky a horrified look. Honestly, the thought of having that conversation with Tony right now scared him shitless because he was pretty sure that Tony hadn’t ever thought about having something more between them. Their whole understanding was built on the premise that what they were doing was casual.

No strings attached, no feelings involved; that was what Tony had agreed to. That was how Tony did all of his relationships as far as Steve knew. But things between them were about to get complicated and Steve just wasn’t sure Tony would want to stick around for that.

Fuck. What if he told Tony how he felt and Tony  _ laughed _ ? Tony probably had people (people that were more glamorous, wealthy, and attractive than Steve) fall in love with him all the time. Steve was clearly fighting an uphill battle here, but he thought he could do it - convince Tony to give dating him a shot - given enough time and careful preparation.

“Steve-” Bucky began, but Steve jumped in.

“I’ll tell him Bucky, but not yet. Just keep quiet about this for now, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly and Steve felt a rush of relief, “But I think you’re worrying over nothing. I’m pretty sure Stark feels the same way. I mean, he practically has cartoon hearts in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

Steve felt his stomach flip and he allowed himself to hope and believe (just for a second) that Tony felt the same way about him. It felt amazing and it was how Steve wanted to feel all the time. Now all that was left was to somehow (and without scaring him off) convince Tony to give a real relationship between them a chance. “Thanks Buck, now get out of here, would ya? I need to go make sure Tony hasn’t tried to escape out of the window in my room.”

Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder, “Good luck.”

\-------

Steve took a deep breath and opened the door to his room only to find it empty - no Tony. Steve glanced suspiciously at the window, but it was still closed and latched. Heart thudding and praying that Tony hadn’t just left, Steve raced down the stairs. Thankfully, he found Tony in the living room.

“Hey,” Steve breathed out.

Tony smiled at him, but it seemed forced, plastered on. “Does Barnes barge into your room unannounced a lot?”

Steve tried to smile back, “Unfortunately, yes.” And then Steve noticed that Tony’s hand was curled around the handle of his packed and zipped suitcase. “Are you leaving?” he asked, dread curling low in his gut. He had joked about it, but he hadn’t actually thought that Tony would leave.

Tony looked away from Steve, “Yeah, I know we were going to head back together tomorrow, but I just saw an email from my thesis advisor saying that he wants to meet first thing in morning, so I thought it would be best to take a train out tonight.” Steve could tell Tony was lying - he wasn’t even trying very hard to make it convincing - and his chest felt tight.

Steve folded his arms, frowning, “It really can’t wait? You can’t stay?”

“I think it would be best if I left.”

“Bucky’s not going to tell anyone,” Steve blurted out, desperate to make Tony stay, “He promised. So it’s fine. Stay. Please?”

Tony grimaced, “Look, Steve, I had a great time this weekend, but I think maybe some… distance would be good - for both of us.” 

“Distance,” Steve repeated numbly. Tony wanted distance. Tony wanted to be anywhere else but here with Steve. God that hurt.

Tony’s phone pinged and he looked down at it. “That’s my cab. Tell your mom thanks for having me and give her my apologies for leaving without a proper goodbye.” When Steve didn’t say anything Tony paused, “I guess I should…”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, not knowing what to do or say to make this better. But if Tony wanted distance, then Steve guessed he could give it to him, “Yeah, okay, bye Tony.”

“I’ll call you,” Tony said and Steve could tell that neither of them believed him. Tony moved towards the door and with a final murmured, “Bye, Steve,” Tony walked out and Steve thought he felt something break inside of him.

\-------

Tony sat slumped in his seat on the train back to Boston and tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing by leaving. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted to (he always wanted to be wherever Steve was), but Bucky finding out about them and Steve’s subsequent solution - “Don’t worry, he’s not going to tell anyone” - had just laid out in stark relief what Tony had always known: that Steve was never going to want Tony the same way Tony wanted him. 

Bucky walking in on them had been the shot that shattered the glass of the rosy bubble Tony had been living in. Because with everything that had happened these past few weeks (Steve being there for Tony after his post-LA meltdown, Steve inviting him home for Thanksgiving, the incredibly intimate sex) it had been easy to let himself believe that Steve might actually want their relationship to be something more.

_ But no, _ Tony thought bitterly. Apparently, at the end of the day, Steve was just like everyone else who thought that Tony was good enough for a fuck but not much more.  _ Fuck.  _ Who was Tony kidding? They were probably all right. Hell, Tony and Steve hadn’t even actually been dating and Tony still somehow had managed to screw it up. Clearly Tony wasn’t cut out for this.

Today just confirmed what Tony had known for a while now: that Steve was never going to want to commit to a relationship with him in public. Maybe it was because Tony was a guy or maybe it was because he wasn’t that great of a person. Whatever the reason was, it was time for Tony to finally accept the situation and move on.

_ It’s going to be fine _ , Tony told himself. After all, Tony had gone into this knowing that there was an expiration date on their relationship, such as it was. It had been fun while it lasted, but now it was time for both of them to get some space and eventually, naturally, their thing would just fizzle out. They would go back to being simply friends, Steve would find some gorgeous, smart girl to date, and it would be almost like their little dalliance had never happened. It was for the best, really. Tony had said it from the start, Steve deserved better than whatever Tony could give him.

And Tony? 

Tony swallowed roughly. Well, he would get over it - and over Steve - eventually. Probably. 

\-------

**Seven days later.**

Tony didn’t know how it was possible for a week to feel like a year. It had been seven days since he had walked away from Steve, but instead of feeling better the more time passed, Tony just got more and more miserable with each passing hour. Missing Steve was a constant ache in his chest that Tony had no idea how to get rid of.

Everything seemed to remind Tony of Steve. Tony couldn’t even fucking look at his own bed without vividly remembering the way Steve kissed him and how it felt to have Steve inside of him.

It sucked.

He had tried drowning his sorrows for about a day until he realized that drinking just made him think about Steve more. Since then, Tony had spent most of the past seven interminable days sober and locked in his lab, only leaving his apartment to go to class and sometimes not even then. Because when Tony was completely immersed in engineering or programming he managed to forget just how much life outside of his lab blew. So he spent  _ a lot  _ of time working and mostly ignored anything and anyone else.

Pepper and Natasha had both tried to pry him out of his self-imposed exile, but Tony had been avoiding anyone that might even mention Steve in passing. Tony had talked to Rhodey for a bit until he realized that Rhodey had been sent by Pepper to stealthily try and pry information out of him on what was wrong. After that, Tony had stuck to socializing strictly with his bots who were better company than most people anyways. Also Tony’s AI project was progressing nicely, so really Tony was doing quite well in the “build yourself new friends” department.

Unfortunately, Tony’s plan to get over Steve by putting him out of sight and out of mind had hit a bit of snag four days ago because that was when the first text from Steve had arrived.

Steve Rogers:  _ We need to talk _

Tony had read the text and his stomach had swooped and he had wanted so badly to just text Steve back - to open that line of communication and maybe figure out if there was a way that they could salvage something between them. Even though he knew that “we need to talk” was the classic pre-cursor to being dumped (because that was obviously why Steve wanted to meet right? To officially put an end to their arrangement?), Tony’s fingers had hovered over his keyboard and he had been  _ this close _ to starting to type a reply when Dum-E had sprayed him with a fire extinguisher, putting a quick end to that. His bots were basically the best.

Since then, Steve had texted or called him once or twice a day. All his messages were various iterations of asking Tony to meet and talk or pick up the phone or at least answer a text.

Steve Rogers [Voicemail]: “Tony I-, fuck I can’t do this over the phone, just call me back. Or text me. Anything. I just-”

Tony ignored them all.

Steve would eventually give up, right?

By the end of the week, Tony was exhausted from trying to stop thinking about Steve, from dodging his calls, and from avoiding everyone even remotely connected to Steve. Tony was tired and drained and felt like he had a constant headache and the real kicker was that in spite of everything, all he wanted was Steve to come over and kiss him until he felt better.

So on day seven, Tony decided that his plan of avoiding Steve until he got over him was clearly destined to fail. What Tony obviously needed was to talk to Steve and get a clean break. Tony needed some fucking closure. Tony figured that he was going to feel terrible either way, so he might as well grow a pair, tell Steve how he felt, and get rejected outright so he could actually move on with his life without all these pathetic “what-if” scenarios ( _ what if I told him and he actually agreed to be together? _ ) running around in his head. And if nothing else, Steve deserved to know why Tony had basically fled from his house and why he was breaking off their arrangement.

Tony needed to talk to Steve and he needed to do it now. Tony thought he might crawl out of his skin if he had to endure another day of feeling like this.

For once in his life, Tony was actually going to try to act like a sensible adult.

It was definitely an interesting, novel concept.

Tony glanced at the clock on the wall - 10 pm on Saturday, so even odds that Steve was out somewhere. Tony bit his lip and took the easy out of texting Pepper.

Tony Stark [10:03pm]:  _ Do you know where Steve is right now? _

Tony waited, drumming his fingers on the benchtop. If Pepper didn’t know where Steve was, then Tony would bite the bullet and text Steve himself… maybe. Okay, maybe after a drink. And then finally his phone vibrated and Tony greedily flicked open Pepper’s text.

Pepper Potts [10:07pm]:  _ Oh you’re talking to me now? _

Tony Stark [10:08pm]:  _ Fuck Pep, I’m sorry. I know, I suck, but I promise I’ll answer whatever questions you want later if you just tell me where Steve is now _

Tony Stark [10:08pm]:  _ It’s important _

Pepper Potts [10:09pm]:  _ Fine _

Pepper Potts [10:09pm]:  _ He’s here, we’re all at Shield. _

Pepper Potts [10:10pm]:  _ You owe me _

Tony Stark [10:11pm]:  _ Thank you Ms. Potts  _

Tony tucked his phone into his pocket, took a shot of tequila (some liquid courage), and hopped in an Uber. Ten minutes later, he was shouldering his way through the crowd at a packed Shield. He eventually spotted Pepper sitting at a table with Bucky, Natasha, and Clint and made his way over.

“Stark!” exclaimed Clint, smiling, “I didn’t know you were coming.” It was by far Tony’s warmest greeting. Pepper raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and next to her Natasha was stone-faced. And Bucky was… glaring at Tony? What the fuck was that about? Whatever, not important right now. 

Tony shook his head and asked the question that was burning inside of him, “Where’s Steve?”

“He’s downstairs but-” began Pepper and Tony didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence before turning around and heading towards the stairs.

In a flash Tony was on the lower level, scanning the crowd for a familiar head of blonde hair. And there! There was Steve. Just seeing him made Tony’s breath catch and heart pound. He was leaning against the bar and smiling at pretty brunette who looked vaguely familiar. And then, as Tony watched, the girl leaned forward and pulled Steve in for a kiss.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! And most of all, thank you for your continued patience in waiting for me to update <3 
> 
> This story is almost over, I only have one more pretty long chapter planned (in which things will be resolved and wrapped up - I promise not to draw out the angst, haha) and then a short, fluffy epilogue set a couple months in the future (probably around graduation). Regarding said last chapter/epilogue, I don’t have too many of the details planned out yet, so If there is anything in particular that you would like to see included, let me know in the comments and I’ll see if I can work it in! Also, if you have strong feelings on whether or not there should be makeup sex in the next chapter, feel free to tell me and give me specific requests (I’m currently on the fence about it).
> 
> Also if anyone is interested, I just got a tumblr and plan to use it mostly to post updates on fic I’m working on. [lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com) \- feel free to come say hi!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Earlier that Day**

Steve was sitting at the kitchen table working on some homework when he was smacked on the back of his head.

Steve looked up with a frown, rubbing his head, “What was that for?”

Bucky grinned down at him, drawled, “To get your attention,” and then sat down across from Steve at the table.

“Because just saying ‘Steve’ clearly wouldn’t have worked,” Steve said drily, rolling his eyes.

Bucky whistled, “Look at that sass, Rogers! That’s the most emotion I’ve gotten out of you in the past week - other than the moping, I mean.”

Steve scowled and chucked his pencil at Bucky, who just reached up to snatch it out of the air with a smug smile. “I haven’t been moping,” Steve said looking down at the table, even though he was pretty sure that moping was exactly what he had been doing for the past seven days. Everything just really… sucked right now. Steve was in love with Tony. Tony, who had fled not just Steve’s house but also the state of New York to get away from him. Tony who refused to answer his texts or calls.

With every passing hour that Steve didn’t hear from Tony, he just felt a little hollower and a little more hurt. And the worst part was that Steve didn’t know how to make it better. He didn’t know if he should be giving Tony space to sort through things or if he should take a more direct route, show up at Tony’s apartment, and refuse to leave until Tony talked to him. Steve didn’t know what was the right thing to do here and Steve  _ hated  _ not knowing what to do. 

Steve worked best with goals and concrete actions he could take to achieve those goals, but there was nothing about him and Tony that was concrete. Somehow this thing between them - which had been so simple - had gotten terribly complicated. Messy. Fractured. And Steve had no idea how to fix it and how to fix them, but maybe he would if Tony would just  _ fucking answer his phone. _

Steve looked up to find Bucky gazing at him, his eyes all squinty and his mouth pursed with something that might have been concern. “I haven’t been moping,” Steve repeated.

Bucky scoffed, “I don’t understand why you won’t just talk to him.”

“I’ve been trying!” Steve exclaimed.

“No, I mean go over there and talk to him.”

Steve shook his head stubbornly, “He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me, I’m not going to  _ make  _ him.” 

“Really. You’re choosing now to draw healthy and normal boundaries between the two of you?” Bucky asked incredulously. 

“I just- I don’t want to take the chance that it’ll make things worse. I keep thinking that maybe if I give him enough space, he’ll come back. I’m trying to do the right thing here… but I just don’t know what that is anymore,” Steve replied despondently. But if Tony kept refusing to talk to him, Steve would eventually have to do something. Because he wasn’t going to let Tony slip out of his life without a fight.

“Oh geez,” Bucky said with a sigh, “You’re all twisted up about this, aren’t you? Well, shoving that aside for now - and it’s just for now, because we’re definitely going to talk more about this whole mess later - the reason I came over to bother you was to say that moping or not, you’re coming out tonight.”

“Buck, I really don’t feel-” Steve started but he was cut off.

“Steve, Peggy’s in town. You kinda don’t have a choice.”

Steve ran a hand over his face, “Fuck. I totally forgot Peggy was coming up this weekend, what with everything else… But yeah, of course I’ll come. What’s the plan?”

Bucky shot him a relieved smile, “Her flight’s landing at seven and she’s going to meet us at Shield for dinner. Some others - Nat, Clint, Pepper I think - will come for drinks later.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said with a smile that wasn’t even forced. He was looking forward to having something (anything) to think about other than Tony.

\-------

**Right Now. Shield.**

Soft lips pressed against his and Steve blinked, startled and momentarily frozen in place. But after an embarrassing second of blankness, his mind started to process what exactly was happening and he hastily pulled back out of the kiss. “Peg-” Steve began before trailing off. 

The kiss had been completely unexpected. One minute they had been talking and the next Peggy was leaning closer and Steve hadn’t realized what was happening until their lips were actually touching. Steve had no idea what to do here - a feeling that was apparently becoming alarming frequent in Steve’s life.

Peggy stared at him for a moment, gaze appraising, before she laughed and punched Steve lightly on the arm. “Oh my god, stop looking at me like that - like I just shot your puppy. It was just a kiss. Was it really that bad? Have I lost my touch?”

Steve grinned back. Thank god. Everything was going to be fine. “I’ve had better,” Steve replied and Peggy punched him on the arm again, this time quite a bit harder.

“Rude! I can’t believe everyone thinks you’re such a sweetheart.”

Steve shook his head at that, still smiling. After a moment of silence, it seemed like Peggy wasn’t going to elaborate further without some prompting, so Steve couldn’t help asking, “What’s going on Peg? That kind of came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, I know” Peggy said looking a little sheepish, “I was just curious if the spark was still there.”

“And is it?”

Peggy shook her head, her smile turning a bit bittersweet, and Steve let out a relieved breath. The spark wasn’t there for him either. Kissing Peggy… well, it had felt fine. It had been perfectly nice. And that’s what it really boiled down to, Steve guessed. With Peggy, a kiss was just a kiss and nothing like the all-consuming warmth and need Steve felt whenever his lips met Tony’s. Oh god. Steve was so screwed.

“What about for you?” Peggy asked and Steve also shook his head “no.”

“Uh- well, um, there’s actually someone else,” Steve blurted out, unable to stop himself. Because as much as Steve was trying to avoid thinking about Tony, he was apparently physically incapable of doing so for more than a few minutes at a time. So. Screwed.

Peggy started to laugh, hiding her face in her hands for a second before meeting Steve’s eyes again, this time with a rueful grin. “Oh god. I can’t even believe it. Me too. As in I also kind of have ‘someone else.’ But my someone is dating another girl pretty seriously and kissing you felt… safe. Safer than going after Da- after who I really want. I’m sorry, Steve. I’m the worst. Tell me about your someone. I want to know everything, including why she isn’t here jealously guarding you from your evil ex-girlfriend that is apparently prone to fits of kissing-the-wrong-person insanity.”

Steve took a deep breath; it was now or never. “She’s actually not a she and it’s… complicated. I’m in love with him, but I don’t think he feels the same way.” It felt good, telling Peggy about Tony, even though it hurt a little to be reminded of his almost certainly unrequited feelings. 

Peggy’s mouth curved into a perfect “O” of surprise and she was silent, clearly processing. 

Steve waited.

“Well,” Peggy began, drawing out the word. She then paused before remarking succinctly, “that blows.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. Fuck. He had missed Peggy. “Yeah, it’s not the best,” he said with a wry smile.

“I’ll say,” Peggy drawled with a smile of her own, “We make a pretty pathetic pair don’t we? Both hopelessly pining after people that don’t want us back. Well, if there was ever a situation that calls for more alcohol, it would be this one.” Peggy flagged down a bartender and ordered two shots. Steve threw back his as soon as it was in front of him. 

Peggy tossed hers back just as easily and then reached out to ruffle Steve’s hair fondly, “Just for the record, he’s an idiot if he doesn’t feel the same way about you.”

“He’s actually pretty much the exact opposite of an idiot. He’s the smartest person I know,” Steve said and some of the ridiculous amount of affection he had for Tony must have colored his words because Peggy raised both brows.

“Wow, you really do have it bad.”

Steve groaned but readily agreed, “Yeah, I really do.”  And not wanting to monopolize the pity party they were apparently having, he quickly added, “And just for the record, your ‘someone’ is an idiot too. Wanna tell me about it?”

Peggy wrinkled her nose, but started talking readily enough. As she spoke, hands animated and eyes shining, Steve let himself wonder what might have happened if they had stayed together. Would they have eventually fallen in love or would the physical distance between them have eventually been too much strain for their relationship to take? 

Being in love with Peggy probably would have been nice, Steve thought. Loving her would have been like the first bloom of spring - slow, sweet, and gentle. Steve supposed he would never know. Because Steve and Peggy hadn’t stayed together and Steve? Well, Steve had met Tony. And there was very little about him and Tony that was slow, sweet, or gentle. 

Tony was like a summer storm. He had come into Steve’s life sudden and swiftly, all booming thunder that rattled Steve’s bones and lightning that Steve felt dance across his skin, making his hair stand on end. And loving Tony was like being caught in center of that storm, drenched, whipped by wind, reveling in the sheer power and wanting more. Demanding more really because storms were what made you feel alive.

Steve blinked down at his now empty glass, recalling what exactly he had been drinking. Wow. Tequila apparently made him quite maudlin.

A few minutes later, as soon as Peggy had finished the drink that she had been nursing, they both made their way back upstairs and to the table where the rest of their group was sitting.

Bucky glanced up at them from where he was sitting, did a double take, and asked, “Where’s Tony?”

Steve’s stomach flipped. “Tony?”

Bucky looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Yeah, Tony. He was here just a few minutes ago looking for you and we told him you were downstairs. Didn’t he find you?”

Steve’s heart was pounding, blood roaring in his ears. Because if Tony had been downstairs and had seen him and Peggy…  _ Fuck, really not good.  _ Abruptly, Steve made his decision. Grabbing his jacket from the booth, Steve announced. “I have to go _.  _ Peggy, I’m sorry, I-” he broke off, not knowing how to explain everything that was happening.

Peggy looked at Bucky, who wasn’t bothering to hide his concern, and then back to Steve and understanding abruptly flashed in her eyes. “Oh!” She breathed, “Tony. Right. Yes, of course you should go.”

Steve ducked down to kiss her cheek, “Thanks Peg. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” And without a backward glance, he ran out of Shield. The sharp bite of cold winter air hit him as soon as he was outside, but he ignored it, starting to scan the street around Shield, hoping against hope that Tony was still close by. But if he wasn’t, then Steve knew he would be getting into the next cab he saw and heading straight to Tony’s apartment. Enough was enough, he was going to talk to Tony tonight. And then there, two blocks away, a slim figure was walking away, shoulders hunched against the cold, and as they passed under a street lamp, the light illuminated messy brown hair and high cheekbones - Tony.

\-------

_ Stupid,  _ Tony berated himself as he left Shield.  _ So stupid _ . He should never have come here. God what had he been thinking?  _ That Steve might actually be missing you as much as you’re missing him _ , a voice inside his head answered unhelpfully. What a joke. Obviously Steve didn’t miss him and Tony had the proof of that seared in technicolor in his mind’s eye. Because whatever he did, he couldn’t stop the memory of Steve kissing  _ someone else  _ from playing on loop in his brain.

Seeing Steve kiss someone that wasn’t him had felt like being run through with a sword. It had been a bright, white-hot pain searing through his insides and every time he replayed the scene in his mind, it hurt just that much more - like someone was standing over him and grinding their heel into Tony’s open, bleeding wound.

Tony started walking. He wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going or his surroundings at all, he just knew that he needed to get away from Shield (and Steve) and that interacting with people (like a cab driver) was probably something he wasn’t capable of right now.

Is this what it felt like to have your heart broken? Fuck. It sucked. 

Tony suddenly had a lot of sympathy for Romeo and Juliet. 

Tony had been telling himself for the past week that everything was eventually going to be okay, repeating it to himself like a mantra. He had really believed that he was going to be fine. Clearly, he had been delusional. Right now, Tony was so far from “fine” that it felt like he would ever find his way back there again. 

And all it had taken to make Tony realize how miserable he really was the knowledge - the crystal clear certainty - that Steve didn’t return his feelings and never would. Before tonight, Tony had had a sliver of hope that things might turn out differently, with Steve and him happily together. But no. It wasn’t going to happen. And having that hope ripped away had left Tony feeling empty and scraped raw.

It wasn’t so much that Steve kissed someone else, it was what that kiss meant.

Tony was so lost in his thoughts that the hand on his elbow startled him badly. 

“Tony,” a slightly out of breath voice exclaimed from behind him. 

Tony stiffened, panic coursing through him. 

Shit. 

Tony knew that voice. Tony spun around only to come face to face with the absolutely last person he wanted to see right now: Steve. Goddamnit, he was not ready for this. He couldn’t… not when he felt like this, not when the pain from the fault lines running through his heart was so fresh and sharp.

Tony stared at Steve’s face and once again the memory of the kiss flashed in front of his eyes. Tony wanted to scream. He wanted to cry and rage and yell because it  _ hurt  _ but he knew he couldn’t. Tony refused to let Steve see how much pain he was in. He had  _ some  _ pride after all. Steve realizing how much Tony had fucked himself up over their “relationship” would happen only over his dead body.

It wasn’t like Tony thought Steve would enjoy seeing how broken Tony was. No. Obviously not. It was the exact opposite. Tony knew the moment Steve realized that Tony had stupidly developed feelings despite their no-strings-attached arrangement, Steve would be so earnestly  _ sorry _ . And if there was one thing that might kill Tony right now, it was having Steve’s pity.

So there couldn’t be any anger, any dramatics. No. The only way Tony was going to get through this conversation was by bottling up every single volatile emotion ricocheting inside him and dealing with them later. Tony just had to get through this and then he could go home and lick his wounds in peace.

Tony took a deep breath and pasted on a smile, “Steve.”

\-------

Tony was finally standing in front of him and Steve had no idea what to say. There was just so much that Steve wanted to talk to him about - why Tony had left last weekend so abruptly, why he’d been ignoring Steve all this week, what Tony might have seen tonight, and the lynchpin of everything: Steve’s feelings - that Steve honestly had no idea where to start. And added to all the confusion and hope spinning inside of him was the pure relief of seeing Tony again after so long. Having Tony here in front of him filled all the blank spaces inside of him and made him feel happy for the first time in a week.

Steve reached out to try to pull Tony closer, into a hug maybe, but Tony flinched imperceptibly and took a small step back. Steve frowned, but didn’t press the issue, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Tony, I didn’t know you were planning on coming tonight. It’s good to see you,” Steve said, meaning every word.

Tony glanced away, “Yeah, it was a last minute thing.”

“Why are you leaving? Buck said you were looking for me?”

“Um yeah, I was, but you seemed… occupied and then I had an idea for the arc reactor and wanted to get home and work it out while inspiration was still flowing, you know. And I hadn’t brought my pad with me, so.” Tony winced and Steve’s stomach plummeted, his worst fear realized. Tony had seen the kiss between him and Peggy and probably thought… all sorts of wrong, completely incorrect things.

\-------

Tony thought he was doing okay, rambling aside. He was just focusing on breathing. In. Out. Every breath he took was one second he was closer to finishing this once and for all.

“What you saw - the kiss - it didn’t mean anything. It was just Peggy looking for some comfort, she’s-” Steve began and ah, that’s where Tony knew the girl from - the photos at Steve’s house.

The girl was Peggy, Steve’s first girlfriend. Peggy, who Steve would probably still be happily dating if they had gone to colleges that were closer together. Apparently, now that they both were graduating soon, Steve and Peggy had decided to pick up where they had left off four years ago. Fine. Perfect. Tony hoped they would be very happy together. Well, no. Right now Tony kind of hoped that they would both fall down a well and die, but he was sure that given enough time, he would probably be able to be happy for them.

Tony cut Steve’s explanation off, he didn’t really want to hear it. He thought if he had to hear Steve talk more about Peggy, he might just punch Steve in his perfect teeth. “It’s fine, it’s not like we ever said we were exclusive,” Tony said, giving Steve clear out.

Steve stuttered to a stop, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open. “Never said? Have you…” Steve trailed off, his question clear ( _ have you been fucking other people? _ )

“Sure,” Tony lied, trying to save face. Because as soon as he had said it -  _ we never said we were exclusive _ \- Tony had had the awful thought that tonight might not have been the first time that Steve had kissed someone else while he and Tony were… a thing, fucking, whatever. And what if Steve had done more than kiss someone else? Fuck. Tony was adamantly not thinking about it. 

At Tony’s response, Steve’s face twisted and Tony watched it, confused. It looked like Steve was… upset? But as soon as it appeared, the expression was wiped away, replaced by blankness, and Tony quickly forgot about it, his mind focused on bringing this conversation to an end as quickly and painlessly as possible.  

\-------

At Tony’s casual response -  _ sure _ \- Steve felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Tony had been with other people this entire time? Nausea rolled through him. No matter how cliché it sounded, Steve had thought that what he and Tony had was real, even special; the kind of chemistry that happened once, maybe twice in a lifetime. God, clearly he had been wrong. So unbelievably wrong.

“I don’t-” Steve stumbled across his words. Nothing made sense and Steve eventually just asked the first fully formed question that popped into his head, “Tony, why did you come here tonight?”

Tony shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does! Why?”

Steve had no idea what was going on. Tony seemed so… off. Distant. Like he had completely shut down. Steve wished Tony would yell, would get angry, would do something to show that he felt something other than cool indifference for Steve. Because an irate, upset Tony was a Tony that Steve could deal with. Steve could work to get a furious Tony to forgive him and to then actually maybe consider being with him. But a Tony that didn’t care? Steve couldn’t do anything with that. 

And then Tony did possibly the most confusing thing yet. He stepped forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s. It was a hard kiss that contained none of the playfulness, softness, or heat that usually characterized their kisses and it felt  _ wrong _ . Steve pushed Tony back, “What-” he began but Tony interrupted him.

“Do you want to fuck?”

“What? Tony- no.”

“Then I think we’re done here,” Tony said, clearly preparing to turn around and start walking away.

Steve grabbed his elbow again to keep him in place. “What? ‘We’re done?’”

Tony rolled his eyes like he couldn’t believe how stupid Steve was being, “It’s called an easy out clause because it’s supposed to be easy Steve.”

And then it hit him. Tony was ending things between them. Permanently. Tony didn’t want a relationship with him. Tony didn’t want him for anything. And why would he? Steve had said it all along, Tony could have whoever he wanted. And obviously he no longer wanted Steve. All of Steve’s plans of telling Tony how he felt went out of the window. How was he supposed to tell Tony he loved him when Tony was ending things between them? 

“So that’s it?” Steve asked, all of the fight draining out of him. He didn’t want to do this again, to go back to the early days of their relationship where every conversation he and Tony had would turn into ten rounds of arguments. Maybe if managed to keep his mouth shut for once in his life, he could salvage some sort of friendship with Tony.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Steve studied Tony’s face, desperately searching for something that would tell him Tony was just as torn up about this as Steve and that he might be having second thoughts, but Steve couldn’t find anything there.

“Okay,” Steve said, jaw clenched.

“Okay,” Tony said back and then with a jerky nod, he was walking away. A moment later, he was out sight, having turned the corner at the end of the block. Out of sight and apparently out of Steve’s life.

Steve suddenly realized how cold he was. He and Tony had been talking outside in the Boston winter for long minutes, so it made sense that he was cold. Steve shivered, feeling the frost seep into him, spearing through to his very core. Steve thought it would probably be awhile until he felt warm again.

\-------

**The next morning.**

Tony woke up feeling like someone was hammering an icepick into his brain. Not because he was hungover (he had gone to bed shockingly and unfortunately sober), but because he had barely slept last night, constantly tossing and turning, unable to stop reliving his conversation (re: break-up) with Steve. If Tony had thought the past week had sucked, it was nothing compared to how he felt now that he and Steve were officially done. Tony unwillingly dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into his living room, intent on getting to coffee as quickly as possible.

“Good morning.”

Tony jumped, tripped over nothing, and whipped around only to find a perky and immaculately groomed Pepper sitting on his couch, two mugs on the table in front of her. “Fuck Pep, warn a guy, would you?”

Pepper’s mouth curved into a smile. “I think your coffee is still warm,” she said, gesturing to one of the two cups in front of her 

“You’re a goddess,” Tony declared as he scrambled forwards, inhaled the lukewarm coffee, and collapsed on the couch next to Pepper.

Feeling slightly closer to human, Tony slanted a look at Pepper who was looking back at him, gaze appraising. “Are you going to yell at me some more?” Tony asked, unable to quite keep the wobble out of his voice and Pepper’s face crumpled.

“God Tony, no. Of course not,” Pepper said before pulling Tony into hug. Tony stiffened and then let himself to relax into it. This was okay. He was allowed to have this. 

After a minute of Pepper stroking his hair she asked, her voice deceptively light, “So you and Steve, huh?”

Tony winced and pulled back to meet Pepper’s concerned gaze. “Is it that obvious?”

Pepper smiled at that, “To me? After last night, yeah. But I don’t think anyone else will put it together.” Pepper paused, “Well, maybe Nat.”

Tony snorted. He wouldn’t put it past Natasha to know everything that was happening in their friend group without having to be told.

Pepper ran a hand through Tony’s hair, “Tony, what happened?”

Tony shivered, closed his eyes, collected his thoughts, and finally told her everything. He didn’t want to lie to Pepper anymore.

“Oh Tony,” Pepper said once he was done, her eyes wide and sad. Tony shrugged, looking away. Because sure, Tony was pathetically heartbroken and all, but he didn’t know how Pepper looking at him like he was a sick kitten from one of those animal shelter commercials was going to help.

And then, “He doesn’t deserve you,” Pepper said, her voice low and fierce and Tony looked back at her, his lips quirking into a small smile. Because there was the Pepper he knew and loved; the Pepper that was always unequivocally on his side and ready to fight to prove it. Pepper’s gaze was stormy and she looked ready to get up and go give Steve a piece of her mind right this minute.

“You’re right, of course,” Tony drawled, feeling lighter than he had in days, “Starks don’t settle for just anyone.” 

Pepper rolled her eyes at that, pulled Tony back towards her, and clearly sensing that a subject change was in order, started telling Tony about the final group project she was working on (re: controlling with a ruthless, iron fist) in one of her business classes.

Tony looked at Pepper - lovely, loyal Pepper - and felt a little of pain and loss filling him up bleed away. He didn’t have Steve, but he had Pepper and he had Rhodey and that was going to have to be enough for now. 

\-------

Steve sat at the kitchen table, morosely eating cheerios. Steve knew he should be miserable or angry or  _ something _ , but he couldn’t really bring himself to feel anything at the moment. He just felt numb. Steve supposed the reality of what had happened last night hadn’t hit him yet.

Bucky walked into the kitchen, took one look at Steve, and exclaimed, “Shit. You look awful. What the fuck happened last night?”

Steve told him.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Bucky hissed, hands curling into fists at his sides.

And that made Steve smile, just a little. Because Bucky’s standard reaction to anything that hurt Steve - a nice punch to the face for the offending party - hadn’t changed much the ten-plus years that they had known each other. “No, Buck. He- he didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t-” Steve broke off, not quite able to finish the sentence ( _ it’s not his fault that he doesn’t love me _ ).

“Didn’t do anything wrong? He fucking broke your heart so I’m damn well going to break something of his.”

“Not on purpose. He didn’t do it on purpose,” Steve argued.  _ He doesn’t even know how I feel,  _ Steve thought. “Just don’t, okay? Don’t do anything. I want us to be friends, if we can, and that definitely won’t happen if you yell at him.”

Bucky deflated at that. After a moment, he sent Steve a crooked smile, “Are you sure? I’m real good at yelling.”

“I know you are, but I’m sure,” Steve said, smiling back at him.

“Alright then punk. Come on, your first heartbreak calls for cuddling and feel-good movies. And we’ll call Peg, have her come over. It’ll be just like high school,” Bucky tugged Steve to his feet and herded him into the living room.

“Lord of the Rings?” Steve asked hopefully, letting Bucky push him on to the couch.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes that Steve knew was completely manufactured. Bucky loved Lord of the Rings just as much as Steve did, he just hid it better. Bucky had an image (the whole black clothing, leather jackets, long, broody hair thing he had going on) to maintain after all.

Bucky put in the disc and then joined Steve on the couch. Steve let himself curl up next to Bucky, soaking up the warmth radiating from him. It was the first time in a while that they had done this. It used to be something they had done a lot, back when Steve was small and sickly and always cold. It was good, having Bucky here. Bucky had been with him through everything else, so Steve didn’t doubt that he would see him through this too.

\-------

**About two weeks later.**

Tony was trying to get better, he really was, but nothing he tried was working.

Working in his lab, spending time with Pepper and Rhodey, even going to class - they were all just temporary measures that kept him from thinking about Steve for an hour or two at most. As it was, Tony was pathetically grateful that it was finals season because it meant that he could focus on learning everything there was to know about thermonuclear astrophysics in one night instead of on Steve.

Tony had even forced himself to try seeing other people. Mostly, it was just part of his continued charade to make sure that the world (AKA Steve) didn’t realize how not okay he really was. However, the idea, which had seemed solid in theory (find someone new and forget about Steve), had backfired rather spectacularly. The few dates that Tony had gone on had actually made him think about Steve  _ more _ because every person Tony went out with, he inevitably compared to Steve. Unsurprisingly, they were all found wanting. And the one time he had tried to kiss someone else, his mind and body had both rebelled, screaming at him that it this was wrong, that this wasn’t the person Tony was meant to be kissing.

Tony had never been in love before, but if being in love meant feeling like this, then Tony was pretty sure it wasn’t worth it. 

It sucked having to do this (school, Howard, SI, life, anything) without Steve. It felt like the floor had been ripped out from underneath him, leaving Tony stumbling and dizzy. How Tony felt made him remember why he used to spend so much time in clubs getting drunk, taking drugs, and hooking up. And really, it was only Pepper and Rhodey’s continued vigilance that kept him from relapsing on that front.

Tony thought it was terribly ironic that he could apparently fix anything in the world except his own shattered heart.

Because as much as Tony tried to forget about Steve, he couldn’t. He replayed every moment of their final fight, imagining endless alternate endings until his mind spun and his head throbbed. And worse than reliving that awful night were the moments when Tony would be struck by memories from before their fight; memories from when he was blissfully and blindly happy. 

He would be doing something completely trivial, like working in his lab or getting coffee in the kitchen, and the sense-memory would hit him. It would be phantom pressure of Steve’s hands on his hips or the ghost of Steve’s lips brushing his neck and Tony would startle, dropping whatever he was holding, completely blindsided by the impressions Steve had left in his life and the pain that inevitably came with remembering.

The one bright spot on amidst all the gloom was the knowledge that Steve would be fine. Sure, he might be upset or pissed for a bit - rejection, even if it was just from a fuckbuddy you didn’t really care about, was never fun for anyone - but Tony knew he’d get over it quickly. Soon enough, Steve would get back together with Peggy officially, or find some other nice, pretty girl or guy to date and this entire mess with Tony would just be a distant memory. After all, Steve had never been Tony’s to keep. Tony had always known that.

So yeah, Tony was really, honestly trying not to wallow in misery and self-pity, but he just couldn’t seem to get the hang of being happy again.

And regularly having to see Steve certainly wasn’t helping matters.

But it was fine.

Tony was totally, definitely handling it.

\-------

Steve remembered when he hadn’t felt anything - when he had been comfortably numb. Sure, it probably hadn’t been very healthy, but he kind of wished he could go back to that. Because now he was just plain pissed off.

After a few days of lying despondently on the couch and letting Bucky fuss over him, Steve had forced himself to snap out of it. Okay, so Tony didn’t want to be with him, and that hurt, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t keep Tony in his life. It would be hard, seeing Tony and not being with him, but Steve thought that it would infinitely harder not seeing Tony at all. And Tony had been the one to end things between them, so surely he would be okay with them being friends? If Steve with his torn-up heart could handle it, then Tony definitely could. 

And just like that, Steve had a new goal: to make sure he and Tony stayed friends. It was a relief, having something to focus on other than the vast emptiness inside of him.

Because losing Tony was ten times worse than any breakup Steve had been through before. It felt like Tony had walked away with a piece of him, a piece that Steve was never going to get back. Tony had been warmth and laughter and the thing that made Steve reach, and now everything was dull and colorless and Steve found it hard to care about well, anything. 

Having Tony, even as just his friend, had to be better than this, right?

So on the Tuesday after their fight, Steve showed up at Helping Hands ready to face Tony and begin Operation Stay Friends. But the Tony that showed up to volunteer wasn’t his Tony. It wasn’t the Tony he had become friends with and then fallen in love with. 

The Tony he was faced with was one that gave Steve a smile that didn’t reach his eyes; the type of smile that Steve had seen him habitually give to strangers, reporters -  _ people that weren’t Steve _ . It was a Tony that responded to everyone one of Steve’s attempts to talk to him with something coolly polite and formal that shut down the conversation before it could even begin. It was a Tony that called Steve “Rogers” instead of one the ridiculous nicknames that Steve now desperately missed.

No smirks. No quips. No teasing. No arguing.

And Steve kept having to stop himself from reaching out and touching Tony. It had become a habit, keeping Tony within reach and taking advantage of it, and it was startling difficult to have to stop. Steve missed the heat of Tony’s skin.

It was like Tony had slammed up a wall around himself specifically meant to keep Steve out. 

It was almost worse than if Tony had just cut Steve out of his life completely.

And Steve tried to breach the wall Tony had put up, he really did. He tried everything he could think of - even remarks specifically designed to make Tony angry, to get him to show some or any emotion - but nothing worked. Tony remained completely closed off.

Tony was close enough to touch, but he'd never been more out of Steve’s reach. 

Was it possible to miss someone when they were right in front of you?

Steve was hurt and upset but most of all, he was angry. Because separate from all the bullshit that had come with sleeping together, Steve had thought that he and Tony were friends. Best friends even. But apparently Tony didn’t feel the same way because what he was doing right now, it was tantamount to throwing away their friendship without a second thought.

And the cherry on top of the sundae of awful that was the situation with Tony was the proof Steve now had that Tony was dating other people. Steve had no clue why he had thought it would be a good idea to set up a google alert for Tony (apparently, he was a masochist), but he had, and then one day, there in his inbox were photos of Tony wining and dining some gorgeous girl, who if Steve wasn’t mistaken was some sort of model and reality TV star.

Steve had been trying so hard to stay positive, to be okay, but seeing that Tony had already moved on to someone new ( _ and much more in his league _ , a poisonous voice inside of Steve’s head had muttered) had been unbelievably upsetting. And sure, Tony had said that he had been seeing other people while he and Steve were sleeping together (and god, the pain of that revelation was still just as fresh as the day Tony had told him), but  _ knowing _ Tony was with someone else was different than  _ seeing _ it. Seeing it was worse. Way worse. It was the ultimate proof that Tony really didn’t want him and would never want him. And yet, even though Tony had moved on,  _ he still didn’t fucking want to be friend _ s.

Steve felt like he kept extending olive branches only to have Tony throw them straight into a fire.

So Steve was furious and his entire body ached with missing Tony, but seeing Tony - even this cold, remote version of Tony - still made Steve’s stomach flip, his heart beat faster, and his day a little brighter. It was horrible. It would be just for a moment, a split second of happiness before Steve remembered that he wasn’t allowed to feel that way around Tony anymore. Or at least that he shouldn't. Because Steve knew that if he kept throwing himself at Tony’s walls, sooner or later he was going to end up breaking himself permanently.

They’d always been good at this, hurting each other. Maybe they were better at this than they ever would have been together. 

\-------

Helping Hands went on holiday break, Tony finished his exams and got the fuck out of Boston. Tony couldn’t fucking believe that he was choosing spending time in LA with  _ Howard  _ over staying in his favorite city, in his favorite lab, and with his favorite bots, but at least in LA, there was less to remind him of a certain someone.

It ended up not mattering.

It turned out that sitting on a beach didn’t make a broken heart hurt any less. Which was a pretty shitty turn of events in Tony’s opinion. Sunlight, ocean, and margaritas should really be a cure-all.

When Christmas was over, Tony said “fuck it” and came back to Boston. Tony just hoped that Steve was still in New York.

\-------

Steve finished his exams, submitted the last of his law school applications, and went home for Christmas. His mom took one look at him and wrapped him up in a much-needed hug that went on for long minutes. 

And because his mom was the absolute best (and somehow psychic), she didn’t ask him a single thing about Tony. Unfortunately, it ended up being a moot point since everywhere Steve looked there were jarring memories of the last weekend he had spent here, the weekend where everything between him and Tony had fallen apart.

Once Christmas was over, Steve practically fled back to Boston, using the excuse of picking up some extra, overtime shifts at Project R to pacify his Ma. It was better to be in Boston. At least the memories of Tony that haunted him there were predominantly happy ones. 

Steve just hoped that Tony was still in LA.

\------

**December 29th.**

Natasha sat at the kitchen table, drumming her fingers on the table top, the sound loud in the unusually quiet apartment. 

Natasha had the apartment all to herself at the moment since Pepper was at still at home with her family and planning on staying there through New Year’s. As it was, Natasha was only really back in Boston for two days for a pit stop between trips. On the morning of the 31st, she was taking a train down to spend New Year’s in Brooklyn with Bucky.

There was nobody in Boston at the moment to make the apartment louder, everyone scattered across the country, going home once the holidays had started.

Well, there was nobody in Boston except Steve and Tony.

Steve and Tony who almost a month later, were still being colossal idiots.

Natasha had thought that given enough time, they would be able to sort themselves out. After all, they were both adults (well, Steve was an adult and Tony was probably as close to one as he was every going to get) and Tony was a genius and Steve had a decent enough head on his shoulders. They should have been able to figure this out. But apparently when it came to each other, Tony and Steve each had a blind spot a mile wide that made them as dumb as rocks.

So yes, Tony and Steve were idiots, but they were her idiots and it was breaking Natasha’s heart to see them both in pieces like this, especially since she knew that just a few words could fix everything.

Three words actually. Said by either of them to the other. The trick was going to be getting one of them to actually grow a pair and say it and the other one to believe it. Because as things stood right now, Natasha had no hope that any type of reconciliation would happen anytime soon. They were both too distracted by their own misery to actually do anything productive about alleviating it. And Bucky and Pepper were definitely not helping.

Steve and Tony both just needed a little… nudge in the right direction and Natasha was a firm believer that if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. 

\-------

Tony was first. Despite some of Tony’s more impulsive tendencies, when it mattered and when he could, Tony liked to be able to fully think things through. And Natasha knew that this conversation was something that Tony would probably spend hours on after it was done, taking apart every sentence, his mind analyzing all the possible implications.

Her mission with Tony: to make sure that when Steve came to talk to him, Tony was finally willing to listen. Her approach: straightforward. Hints and subtleties tended not to be Tony’s style.

Natasha knocked and Tony swung open the door to his apartment. “Tasha!” he exclaimed with a half-smile, “To what do I owe the pleasure? I didn’t even know you were in town.” Tony looked awful - like he hadn’t had a proper night's sleep in weeks. But because Natasha had class, she refrained from pointing this out.

Natasha let Tony lead her into the kitchen where she perched on a stool while Tony started to make coffee. 

“I wanted to talk to you about Steve,” Natasha said, getting straight to business.

“What about Steve?” Tony asked, blinking guilelessly at her. Tony was good. He seemed completely unfazed by the mention of Steve. Tony was good but Natasha was better. And she knew Tony’s tells. Natasha saw the tiny tightening of Tony’s mouth and the small wrinkle that appeared for just a moment between his brows and knew that Tony wasn’t nearly as composed as he appeared to be.

Natasha accepted her cup coffee, took a sip, and then calmly said, “I wanted to talk about how you dumped Steve and how now both of you are miserable.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open in shock and Natasha almost grinned. “I  _ dumped  _ hi- wait, What? Steve is miserable?”

Yeah, Natasha thought that might penetrate Tony’s thick skull. So stubborn, the both of them. Honestly. They deserved each other. “Miserable,” Natasha echoed.

“Why?” Tony asked, and he sounded so honestly confused. It was awful.

Natasha just looked at him. Tony was smart enough to figure out the implications of “why” himself.

“But he didn’t feel- we weren’t- he and Peggy-” Tony stuttered to a stop, clearly frustrated. 

Natasha leaned forward, “He made Bucky watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy with him. Twice. Extended editions. And then he broke a punching bag at the gym.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He knew Steve. He knew what Steve did when he was looking for comfort.

Natasha drank her coffee, letting Tony process what she had just told him in uninterrupted silence. After a few minutes, she finished and stood up to leave. “Tony, I don’t know what exactly happened between you and Steve,” Tony shot her a disbelieving look at that and Natasha smiled, “But maybe he deserves a second chance to explain himself.”

Tony bit his lip. “I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off and Natasha filled in the blank. Tony didn’t know if he could go through it again; relive and rehash the end of their relationship.

Natasha pulled Tony in for a hug, “I know, I know dorogoi moy. Just think about it okay?” And because he trusted her, Natasha knew that Tony would. After a moment, Natasha stepped away and let herself out of the apartment, leaving behind a Tony that was deep in thought. 

One down and one to go.

\-------

**Two days later. December 31st.**

Natasha had left talking to Steve until an hour before she was supposed to be at the train station, which was why she was standing in front of Steve’s apartment at 7:30 in the morning on New Year’s Eve.

Her mission with Steve: to get him to remove his head from his ass and actually go tell Tony that he loved him. Her approach: a bit more delicate. Steve needed to be  _ convinced _ that there was a better course of action than his current one, not just bluntly hit over the head with the pertinent information like Tony.

Natasha knocked and the door opened to reveal a flushed and sweating Steve, probably just finished with his morning workout. Steve blinked at her, visibly confused, “Nat, hey! Uh, not that it isn’t great to see you, but aren’t you supposed to be in Brooklyn with Buck?”

Natasha looked down at the suitcase beside her and then back at Steve. “I’m leaving for the train station in an hour, but I thought I’d come see you first.”

Steve frowned at her. Actually, it was more of a pout. Adorable. “Did Bucky send you to check up on me? Because I told him that I’m fine, I don’t mind spend New Year’s by myself.”

Natasha hummed noncommittally, letting Steve draw his own conclusion, and Steve sighed, “Well I guess you better come in then.” 

Natasha grinned.

Once they were settled in the living room, Natasha curled up in the corner of the couch with tea and Steve sat next to her, drinking some horrible-looking protein shake. Once they were settled, Steve asked, “So, you are here to check up on me?”

Natasha shrugged, “I don’t want you to be alone. Neither does Bucky.”

“I’m fine.”

Natasha arched a disbelieving eyebrow at that, “Are you?”

Steve had the good grace to look a little embarrassed at the blatant lie. “I’m getting better,” he allowed.

Natasha took a sip of tea. “Did you ever tell him?”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

Steve gave an exasperated huff of laughter at that, “Jeez Nat. No, I didn’t tell him. I don’t think he would have appreciated hearing it.”

Natasha just barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Idiots. The pair of them. “Did you want to tell him?” she asked.

“What kind of question is tha- yes. Yes, I wanted to tell him.”

“Then maybe you should have said it for yourself, not just for him. Maybe it would have given you some closure.”

“Well, it’s too late now,” Steve said, slumping back against the couch.

“Why?”

Steve just shook his head and after a moment of silence remarked, “You know, I thought that this was supposed to be easy. That you fall in love and get your happy ending.”

“Come on Steve, you know better than that. Everything that you have that’s worth having is something you’ve fought for. Why aren’t you fighting for this?” Natasha asked the question as gently as she could, but Steve still flinched. He broke eye contact with Natasha, his gaze dropping to his hands and his shoulders set in a miserable slope.

“I’m terrified,” Steve said quietly, “This, how I feel, Tony - it scares the shit out of me.”

Natasha knew how much it must have cost Steve to admit that, but she couldn’t let this go. “So?” she asked, “You’ve never let that stop you before.”

Steve looked back up at her and said quietly, almost defeated, “I know. You’re right.”

And Natasha couldn’t have that. “Look, Steve, I’m not saying it’s going to make everything magically better, but maybe it’s worth a shot. Telling him, I mean. Maybe it will clear the air between you, explain some things. At the very least, he deserves to know and you deserve the chance to tell him. And it’s not as if not telling him has done either of you any good.”

Steve shot her a small smile, “You know, Bucky’s probably going to kill you when he finds out you’re telling me to go talk to Tony. He firmly believes I shouldn’t get anywhere near Tony for at least the next three months.”

“Please,” Natasha scoffed, “He can try.”

Steve grinned at that and then shrugged, “Well, even if I wanted to talk to him, it’s not like I could. He’s still in LA.”

Natasha got to her feet. There wasn’t much more she could do here. The longer she talked to Steve, the more she risked him refusing to do anything she suggested out of sheer stubbornness. Natasha set down her mug and turned to Steve, who was still slumped on the couch, “Well then you’re in luck. Because Tony’s back in Boston. By himself. He told me LA doesn’t have what he wants.”

Steve lurched to his feet, “What?”

Natasha leaned up and planted a kiss on Steve’s cheek, hiding her smile. “Happy New Year’s, Steve,” she said, pulling back. “Thanks for the tea, but I have to get going. I have a train to catch. After all, I wouldn’t want the person I love to be alone on New Year’s.” She then grabbed her suitcase and left, leaving a visibly confused Steve in the apartment behind her. But she wasn’t worried. She was pretty sure that it wouldn’t take long for Steve to decide that the only right thing to do was to go and find Tony

\-------

**Later that day.**

Tony had been turning over Natasha’s words in his head for the past two days. Because what Natasha had hinted at was that Steve was just as broken up about how things ended between them as Tony was. It seemed impossible. After all, Steve had seemed  _ fine  _ in the aftermath of their fight, showing up to Helping Hands and treating Tony just like he had after they had become friends and before they had become more.

So Tony’s initial instinct had been to ignore what Natasha had told him. Because there was no way that Steve was actually miserable. For Steve to be miserable, he would actually have to have cared about Tony and Tony had spent a lot of time and effort convincing himself that Steve didn’t feel anything for him. Because why would he? Why would anyone?

Tony hated being wrong and if anyone but Natasha had told him Steve was miserable, he definitely wouldn’t have believed him. But unfortunately, Tony trusted Natasha. He trusted that she wouldn’t tell him something that revelatory without being absolutely certain that she was right.

It was terrifying having to consider the possibility that he had been wrong about how Steve felt about him. If Steve had cared for him, then Tony had fucked things up royally. Because even if Steve had felt something beyond friendship for Tony back then, now, after their fight and Tony’s subsequent efforts to push him away, Steve probably wanted nothing to do with him; a reality that made Tony sick to his stomach.

It was a mess. A problem that Tony had no idea how to solve. And it wasn’t as if Tony could go to Steve and demand answers from him. As far as Tony knew, Steve wasn’t even in Boston. And even if he was, he would probably just slam the door in Tony’s face and Tony would deserve it.

\-------

Steve had no idea what he was doing, but he had never let that stop him before and he wasn’t going to let it stop him now. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Tony or what he thought it was going to change, but he had to something. If telling Tony how he felt made things even a little better, Steve was going to do it. After all, you were supposed to be honest with the people you loved.

Steve raised his hand and knocked.

\-------

Tony heard the knock and wandered out of his lab, absently wiping his grease-stained hands on his jeans. Tony wondered if it was Natasha, back to casually drop more life-altering bombs into his lap. Maybe he could convince her to stay with and have a drink or three with him. Tasha was a sucker for good vodka and Tony was sure he had some stashed somewhere.

Tony opened the door and almost passed out. “Steve?” Tony said, briefly wondering if he was hallucinating. He ran his eyes greedily over Steve, taking in every single detail. Steve looked as gorgeous as ever. It had been long days since Tony had last seen Steve and having him here, close enough touch, was the best kind of vision.

“Tony, hi,” Steve said after a moment, looking just a startled to see Tony which Tony thought was a little concerning since Steve had been the one that knocked on Tony’s door.

“I thought you were in New York,” Tony blurted out.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh, no. I came back after Christmas.”

Tony nodded and they both stood there. Silently. 

“Can I-” Steve trailed off, looking at Tony uncertainly and Tony snapped out of it.

“Yes! Yes. Uh, come in,” Tony rambled and promptly wanted to die. How was it that Steve was the one person in the world that had the power to turn Tony into a complete idiot?

Steve stepped inside the apartment and Tony closed the door behind him and once more they were left with silence. Tony had no idea what to say. Why was Steve here? But of course, because Tony had no filter, he couldn’t help asking the first thing that popped into his head, “How’s Peggy?”

Steve’s brow wrinkled, “What?”

“I just- You and Peggy. You make a cute couple,” Tony said, blatantly fishing for information. Because the one thing that he had been too proud to ask anyone for the past month was if Steve and Peggy had gotten back together. Tony had been operating on the “ignorance is bliss” principle.

Tony’s inquiry was not well received.

“What the fuck Tony?” Steve hissed, gaze stormy.

“What?” Tony asked defensively.

“Peggy and I aren’t together and won’t be getting back together,” Steve said, arms crossed as he glared at Tony, which Tony thought was uncalled for.

“You kissed-”

“I told you that didn’t mean anything!” Steve exclaimed.

“It sure looked like it meant something,” Tony said snarkily, unable to stop himself. Because even though he and Steve had fought, they hadn’t actually talked about any of their issues. Tony hadn’t let them, terrified that in the course of actually arguing with Steve, it would become obvious how Tony felt about him. But Tony was done feigning indifference. Fuck it. Tony wanted to yell at Steve so he was damn well going to yell.

“Well, it didn’t,” Steve said and Tony didn’t even have time to enjoy the waves of relief flooding him before Steve shot back, “And like you can talk. What about you and that girl? The model, K-something. You two sure looked cozy in those pictures.” 

“That wasn’t- we’re just friends,” Tony said slowly, gazing at Steve in confusion. Because that sounded a lot like jealousy. Which would mean that-

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said bitterly.

“Why do you even care?” Tony snapped back, which, alright, probably wasn’t the best way to get the information that he wanted, but Steve was just so goddamn  _ infuriating _ sometimes that-

“Because I was in love with you!”

Tony’s racing thoughts came to a screeching halt. Silence reigned and Steve looked like he couldn’t decide if he was appalled or determined to forge forward.

“What?” Tony eventually managed to croak out. Steve couldn’t possible have said what Tony thought he had, could he? His heart hammering, Tony frantically struggled to remember when the last time he had slept was because this had to be some sort of delirium, right?

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “Look, Tony, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came to tell- what I- Geez, this is harder than I thought it would be.” Steve paused, briefly closed his eyes, visibly took a fortifying breath, and then continued, his eyes now clear and focused on Tony. “Tony, I was in love with you but I never told you. I know that it doesn’t change anything and I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I think I had to tell you. I’m not expected anything, I just-”

Tony raised a hand, “Steve, shut up.”

“Excuse me?” Steve said, giving Tony a look that was a mix between affronted and wounded and Tony struggled not to roll his eyes. Honestly, Steve was the most dramatic person Tony had ever met.

“I said shut up.” Tony thought frantically, trying to figure out the best way to coax what he needed to know out of Steve.  _ I was in love you _ ,  _ I was in love with you _ echoed on loop in Tony’s head. It was hard, trying to think over the ringing in his ears and butterflies swooping through his stomach, but then it came to him. 

“You owe me a question,” Tony stated and when Steve gave him a confused look, Tony elaborated. “A while ago we traded one question for another. I answered your question but saved mine for a later date. Remember?”

“Yes?” Steve said uncertainly.

Tony barreled ahead, “So you owe me a question. I get to ask you anything I want and you have to give me an honest answer.”

Steve nodded, “Okay.”

Tony took a breath and asked, “You said you  _ were _ in love with me. How do you feel about me now?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in alarm. “Tony,” Steve pleaded.

“Answer the question. Please?” Tony needed to know. Because if Steve felt  _ something  _ (anything) for him, then there was a chance; a chance that Tony might not have to spend the rest of his life missing part of himself. 

Okay. Fine. Tony was willing to admit he might be a little dramatic too, but this was him and Steve - when had their story been anything but?

And then finally, his face set in stubborn determination, Steve answered. “I was in love with you then and I’m still in love with you now. And I know you don’t-”

Tony’s vision whited out for a second, everything going blurry and dizzy, and suddenly Tony couldn’t stand it anymore, the distance between him and Steve.

Tony cut Steve’s words off with a kiss.

\-------

Just like they always did, Tony’s lips on his succeeded in making Steve’s entire brain go offline. Tony cupped his cheek and coaxed his lips open and Steve gave into the kiss with a small gasp. Tony’s lips were soft and full and the kiss was somehow both gentle and fierce, making Steve feel warm and wanted. It was  _ good _ , the best that Steve had felt in weeks. When Tony drew back, brushing a lock of Steve’s hair off of his forehead, Steve missed the press of Tony’s body against his so fiercely he ached.

Unfortunately, it was then that Steve’s brain decided to reboot. Steve blinked at Tony who was gazing up at him with an expression that Steve thought might be awe. “Um, I’m confused,” Steve said carefully.

Tony grinned, “Muffin,” Steve’s stomach swooped at the nickname, “generally, when you tell someone you love them and they kiss you, it means they love you back.”

“But you ended things between us.”

Tony’s smile slid off of his face and he took a small step back. Steve hated it, hated making Tony look so small and uncertain, but he had to understand what had happened between them.  If he understood, then he could make sure it never happened again. 

“Yes, yes I did. I thought that what we were doing was casual for you. ‘Friends with benefits, no one has to know.’ That’s what you said. I didn’t think that you were ever going to feel anything more for me and it hurt, you not wanting me for anything other than occasional, behind-closed-doors sex. And then I saw you kissing Peggy and thought, ‘Oh, I guess that’s what he really wants.’ So I ended things.”

Steve was horrified. “How you could you believe that I didn’t care? How could you think that I would treat you that way?” he demanded. He didn’t know who he was angrier at, Tony for believing the worst or himself, for everything he had done or said that had inadvertently reinforced that belief.

Tony shrugged, looking away. “ No one has ever cared before. No one that I’ve been with has thought twice about treating me like I’m disposable.”

Steve moved beyond horrified and settled comfortably into rage. After this conversation was done, Steve thought he might just track down and maim every single person that had ever hurt Tony. Except, according to Tony, Steve was apparently at the top of that list. Fuck. Well, not anymore. Steve was going to make this right.

“Tony, you’re brilliant and hilarious and you care so much. And obviously you know how gorgeous you are. I mean, there are days when I can’t believe that we’re even friends, let alone anything more. I hate that I ever made you feel like you’re anything less than spectacular.”

Throughout his speech, Tony’s tense stance had relaxed inch by inch, and by the end of it, Tony was almost smiling. “It’s okay,” Tony said softly.

“No, it’s not,” Steve insisted, upset at himself on Tony’s behalf, “Fuck, if I had just said something earlier, we could have avoided all of this.”

Tony raised a brow at that, “Why didn’t you?”

Steve smiled ruefully, “Well, I only realized how I felt over Thanksgiving - after Bucky walked in us actually - and then you left and were avoiding me. Then I found out you came to Shield, but when I finally got to talk to you, you were so cold and distant. I know I should have told you, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I’ve never felt like this before and I was convinced you didn’t feel the same. I thought that if I told you, you would run in the opposite direction.”

Tony smiled, stepping in close and sliding his hands up Steve’s chest to curl around the back of his neck.  “You’re such an idiot. Who wouldn’t want you? I can’t believe that out of the two of us, I’m the more emotionally mature one.” 

Steve let himself reach out and grip Tony’s hips, tugging him a little closer into the circle of Steve’s arms, where he belonged. “You call telling me you’ve been sleeping with other people and then breaking up with me being more emotionally mature?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Well, when you put it like  _ that _ .”

Steve ran his thumb over the sliver of skin between Tony’s tank top and waist of his jeans and couldn’t help asking, stumbling through the question, “Um, Tony, were you sleeping with other people? I mean, not that you couldn’t, because we  _ weren’t _ exclusive, but I just-”

Tony’s face blanched, “Fuck. Shit no, I wasn’t. I just said it because I had seen you kissing Peggy and I couldn’t let you see how much it hurt-”

“I believe you,” Steve said, cutting off Tony. Steve trusted Tony and he didn’t want to spend more time than necessary dwelling on their mistakes. Steve knew that Tony would have been perfectly within his rights to have been with someone else, but god was he glad that Tony hadn’t been.

“Okay, good,” Tony breathed out, “I wasn’t and I haven’t - been with anyone since our fight I mean - despite what the tabloids say. It’s kind of hard to even kiss someone when you’re hopelessly in love with someone else, you know.”

Steve grinned at that, “Not so hopeless.” Tony loved him. It was just beginning to sink in. Steve was actually going to get to have this, to have Tony. Steve finally felt whole and warm and he thought his heart might beat out of his chest with how hard it was racing.

“Yeah, I guess not,” Tony said with an answering smile and Steve leaned down to do what he had been dying to for weeks: kiss Tony. 

Before he became too invested, Steve pulled back, determined to get one final thing straight. “Tony, I love you and I want to be with you. So you better tell me right now if that’s not what you want too.”

Tony blinked before breaking out into another bright smile, “Fuck Steve, I’ve been head over heels for you since the first time you kissed me. Of course it’s what I want.”

“Okay, good,” Steve said, not bothering to hide how happy that made him. He loved Tony and Tony loved him back. It didn’t matter how much they had screwed up the beginning of their relationship because they were getting a second chance and Steve knew that this time, they were going to get it right.

“You love me,” Tony said it wonderingly, like he still couldn’t quite believe it. Which was fine. Steve was planning on spending a lot of time convincing him.

“Yes,” Steve said.

Tony grinned, “Alright then Rogers, prove it. Take me to bed and then take me on a date.”

“Bed before the date? What kind of guy do you think I am Tony?”

Tony winked, “What? Gonna make me work for it babe?”

“Nah,” Steve said before crouching down, grabbing a startled Tony around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder. It seemed like the most straightforward way to get Tony to where he wanted.

Tony’s fists hit Steve in the small of the back. “Oh my god, put me down you neanderthal,” he demanded with a breathless laugh. 

Steve started walking. “I thought you wanted me to take you to bed?” he asked innocently as he made his way down the hallway towards Tony’s bedroom. 

Steve heard a disgruntled huff from behind him and could just picture the face Tony was making. “Fine, but after this you’re going to take me on a real date and it better be good. I’ll be expecting candlelight and chocolate and you’re going to feed me said chocolate by candlelight while a string quartet plays softly in the background.”

“You know, that sounds like a lot of work,” Steve said as they finally crossed the threshold of Tony’s room. “If I’d known you were going to be this high maintenance…” Steve trailed off, grinning as he deposited an adorably aggrieved Tony on the bed.

Tony looked up at him, his hair mussed and his cheeks pink. “A string quartet,” he repeated seriously, getting to his knees on the bed and sliding his fingers into Steve’s hair, “and a dozen long stemmed roses,” Tony tugged Steve closer until their lips almost met, “and a horse drawn carriage ride in the moonlight.”

“Anything,” Steve promised and Tony laughed as he sealed their lips together in kiss. 

\-------

It was stupid and such a cliché, but kissing Steve felt like coming home. Steve’s arms wrapped around Tony’s waist and his mouth was hot and insistent, his lips laying claim to Tony’s. Tony was only too happy to be claimed. Tony couldn’t believe that Steve was here, in Tony’s apartment, in Tony’s bed, kissing Tony like he loved him because Steve did in fact love him.

It was unreal. 

The best kind of dream.

Lips moved, tongues tangled, and searching fingers eagerly sought skin, leaving bright sparks of sensation in their wake. Tony pressed himself as close as he could get to Steve, unable to stop himself from gasping when hardness met hardness. Kissing Steve was better than any drug and Tony let himself get lost in it, basking in the pure pleasure that left him dizzy and desperate for more.

Steve broke away from Tony’s mouth to brush soft kisses at the corner of Tony’s mouth, across his cheek, down his neck. 

“God Tony, I missed you so much,” Steve murmured into the crook of Tony’s neck, his fingers gripping Tony’s hips almost painfully tight, as if he thought that Tony was in imminent danger of slipping away.

Steve’s words knocked the breath from Tony’s lungs. He knew exactly how Steve felt. It was almost unbearable, the thought that they had been so close to losing each other. “I know, I know. Me too. Fuck, me too,” Tony said, hands stroking soothingly through Steve’s hair.

Tony felt Steve take a shaking breath and then he raised his head, his eyes locking onto Tony’s. “I need you. I’ve never needed you more.”

And Tony couldn’t stop himself from smiling because the answer to that was so simple. “I’m yours,” Tony said. It was a promise that Tony had every intention of keeping.

Steve’s eyes flared hot and then Tony was being pressed back onto the bed, Steve braced over him, “Yes, mine.” Steve’s gaze was blistering and proprietary and contained a promise of its own.

_ Fuck yes. _

\-------

Steve seized Tony’s lips in another kiss and Tony opened beautifully for him. Steve wasted no time in dipping his tongue inside the slick heat of Tony’s mouth for a taste. Tony arched up against him and Steve lowered his body further, letting his weight press Tony firmly against the bed and bringing every inch of their bodies into glorious, sparking contact.

Tony moaned into their kiss, his hands skimming down Steve’s back until they reached the bottom of his shirt, rucking it up and splaying across the bare skin of Steve’s back, encouraging him to move. Steve did, creating a languid grind between their bodies that despite the layers of clothing between them, still felt mind-numbingly good.

Steve sucked on Tony’s tongue, his bottom lip, and then leaving Tony’s mouth with a nip, he focused his attention on the column of Tony’s neck. Steve laid kisses down the sweet expanse of skin he found there as Tony writhed beneath him. When Steve reached the juncture of Tony’s neck and shoulder, he sucked hard enough to leave mark that everyone would be able to see, just because he could, causing Tony to let out a loud moan, his fingers tightening their grip in Steve’s hair. Steve knew it was more than a little juvenile, but the thought of marking Tony as his was viscerally satisfying.

Steve sat back and admired the way Tony was spread out beneath him and how debauched he already looked with his kiss-swollen lips and pleasure-dark eyes. Reluctantly, Steve slid back and off the bed. 

Tony’s noise of displeasure quickly changed to something more of a purr when Steve stripped off his shirt and unzipped his pants. “Fucking finally,” Tony said, sitting up and moving to take off his own shirt, but Steve caught Tony’s arm and shook his head.

“No, let me.”

Tony let out a stuttered breath, his eyes going darker, before he laughed softly and lay back down on the bed. “Okay sweetheart, it’s your show.” 

Steve grinned and quickly finished stripping out of his clothes, enjoying the way Tony’s half-lidded eyes tracked each of his movements. Once he was completely naked, Steve couldn’t help giving his throbbing erection a few lazy strokes, and Tony groaned, his eyes slipping closed for just a moment.

“Fuck Steve, I said it was your show, but if don’t fucking touch me soon, I’m going to-”

Steve didn’t get to hear the end of Tony’s threat because before Tony could finish talking, Steve was on the bed again, kissing Tony hungrily, unable to get enough of Tony’s mouth.

He then moved back and raised an eyebrow at Tony.

Tony huffed, “Yes, fine, you can continue.”

Steve smiled and kissed Tony again. “So glad I have your approval,” he drawled, moving down Tony’s body and starting to take off Tony’s tank top. He pushed up the hem slowly, leaving kisses along Tony’s lean, defined abdomen as he did. When he reached Tony’s nipples, he drew one into his mouth and sucked, causing Tony to buck up, his hands flying out to grip Steve’s hair.

When Steve was finished lavishing attention on one nipple, he moved to the other and Tony let out a wrecked groan that went straight to Steve’s cock. But right now, this wasn’t about him. It was about Tony, and Steve using his body to reinforce everything that he already told Tony: I want you, I need you, I love you. 

Steve finished stripping Tony out of his shirt and then moved down to Tony’s pants. He placed teasing kisses along the skin above the waistband of Tony’s jeans, before moving to unbutton and unzip them.

Steve tugged Tony’s pants off slowly, making a point to kiss and worship every inch of newly exposed skin - the soft skin of Tony’s thigh, the small, jagged scar on Tony’s knee, Tony’s ankle, even the delicate arch of Tony’s foot. Tony gasped and squirmed underneath him, even as he pressed into every touch, his body now covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Tony looked beautiful and pleasure-drunk and Steve felt almost overwhelmed by the mix of raw desire and intense tenderness he felt. He wanted Tony more than he wanted his next breath.

When Steve finally had Tony completely naked, he started to slowly make his way back up Tony’s body, this time talking in between kisses, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “Gorgeous Tony, you’re so gorgeous. And I can’t believe that I get to have you, I can’t believe you’re giving yourself to me. You have no idea the things I want to do to you. I want to kiss you until your lips are too bruised to continue. I want to suck you until I’ve memorized your taste. I want to fuck you for hours, through one orgasm and on to another, until you’re sore and completely sated and then I want to do it all over again.”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” Tony breathed out, lifting a hand to grip his long-neglected cock and giving it a single desperate pull before Steve caught Tony’s hand again pressed it back down against the bed.

Tony whined, his head tossed to the side. “Please Steve, I can’t- I need to… You have to give it to me, please, please,” he begged, his voice sounding wrecked and his knuckles white where he gripped the sheets tight in his hands. Steve had heard Tony beg before, but he had never heard him sound so far gone, like if Steve didn’t touch him he would fall apart.

“Always, Tony. Anything,” Steve promised, one hand stroking soothingly up Tony’s thigh and the other reaching into Tony’s bedside drawer for the necessary supplies.

“Steve, please,” Tony gasped, his legs splayed open in blatant invitation.

When Steve’s hand finally reached the base of Tony’s cock, Tony’s eyes blinked open. Steve caught and held Tony’s gaze as he lowered his head, took the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth, and sucked. Tony keened and Steve slid his lips the rest of the way down Tony’s length, reveling in the desperate sounds Tony couldn’t seem to stop himself from making.

Fuck, Steve really loved this. The feel of Tony stretching his mouth, the taste of Tony on his tongue, and the way Tony fell apart underneath him. Gripping Tony’s cock with one hand, Steve moved his mouth up and down. Tony rolled his hips in little hitches up into Steve’s mouth and his hands cupped the back of Steve’s neck, scratching through the hair there and sending sparks of pleasure skittering down Steve’s spine. Steve was so hard that it almost hurt.

After a few moments, Steve pulled off \- ignoring Tony’s disappointed whine - only long enough to roll a condom on himself and slick up the fingers of his other hand. Then he was back, gripping Tony’s cock and sucking it down once more as the lube-slick fingers of his other hand trailed down the skin behind Tony’s balls to rub across his hole and then slowly press inside.

\-------

Tony was burning up. First Steve had teased Tony for what seemed like hours, his mouth everywhere on Tony’s body except where he wanted it most. Then Steve had started  _ talking _ , his every word only winding Tony tighter. And now it seemed like Steve would be happy to spend forever working Tony open while he sucked him. But Tony didn’t think he could survive this much longer. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire, each one lit up with pure bliss.

The next time that Steve pressed his fingers inside of him, he crooked them, unerringly hitting Tony’s prostate and sending a wave of white-hot want through him.

That was it.

Tony couldn’t take it anymore.

Tony got it, he really did. Steve wanted to prove to Tony how much more than just simple sex this was, but Tony wanted to prove the same thing. 

Tony pulled Steve’s head up and then pushed at Steve’s chest. Steve was so startled that he went easily and the moment Tony had Steve where he wanted him - sitting sprawled against the headboard of Tony’s bed - Tony was moving to straddle Steve’s lap. And before Steve could do much more than blink, Tony was gripping Steve’s cock and sinking down onto it with a groan. It was fucking heaven, having Steve deep inside of him, filling Tony up perfectly.

“Oh fuck, Tony. So good,” Steve hissed out, his arms snaking around Tony’s waist and back and pulling him in close.

“Steve,” Tony breathed out as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and started to move, his hips undulating in a slow, tortuous roll that had Steve’s cock brushing up against all the right places inside of him. And every time Tony moved, his own cock dragged along the ridges of Steve’s abs, leaving sticky trails of pre-cum in its wake and the small amount of friction feeling unbearably good.

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” Steve said, gazing into Tony’s eyes as hips thrust up in steady, perfect counterpoints to Tony’s.

Tony whimpered, not just from the reverence in Steve’s words, but from the pure love and trust shining in Steve’s eyes. Tony pushed a sweaty lock of Steve’s hair off of his forehead before trailing fingers down Steve’s cheek, cupping his face, and seizing his lips in a fiercely sweet kiss as their bodies flowed together.

Tony tried pour everything he felt for Steve into the kiss. For the first time, he held nothing back. He knew he didn’t have to because Steve felt the exact same way he did. Tony knew that Steve had gotten the message when he groaned and tightened his arms around Tony. As they kissed, they rocked together, hot, sweat-slick skin sliding against skin and every thrust sending waves of pleasure roiling through Tony.

It was slow and profoundly intimate, just like the last time they had slept together. But this time, the feelings coursing through him didn’t scare Tony. He didn’t feel like he had to run from them or hide how he felt, because right there, in Steve’s eyes, Tony could see all of his emotions reflected back at him.

Tony knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. His breathing was ragged and his heart was racing and he felt strung taut, ready to snap at any moment.

He grudgingly relinquished his hold on Steve and moved to wrap his hands around the top of the headboard, giving him extra leverage so he could really begin moving. Tony started to ride Steve in earnest, hips rolling, thighs burning and the drag of Steve’s cock lighting him up inside.

Steve apparently appreciated this change as much as Tony and his hands moved to grip Tony’s hips and his ass, spreading Tony’s cheeks and helping to lift Tony as he moved. “God, Tony, Tony,” Steve gasped, his own hips snapping up as Tony came down and Tony cried out, feeling himself start to unravel. 

“Right there, right there, Steve,” Tony moaned, almost beyond coherence, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

And then between one moment and the next, Tony was coming, untouched, just from the feeling of Steve moving deep inside of him and the slide of his cock against Steve’s stomach. Everything went white and his vision blurred but this time, instead of shattering him, Tony’s pleasure completed him.

Beneath him, Tony could feel Steve shuddering. He thrust once, twice more up into Tony and then he was climaxing too, his eyes locked on Tony’s and Tony’s name like a prayer on his lips.

Tony slumped against Steve with a blissed-out, satisfied smile on face, struggling to catch his breath as his heart pounded in his ears. Tony felt Steve’s own answering smile against the skin of his neck where Steve’s face was tucked. Steve’s hands traced lazy patterns on Tony’s back and it made Tony wanted to purr with contentment.

‘“Tony,” Steve eventually said, “We should move.”

“No,” Tony protested, running clumsy fingers through Steve’s hair and burrowing closer.

Steve laughed and after a few more minutes of cuddling, Tony deigned to peel himself off of Steve, wincing a little as he lifted himself off of Steve’s lap.

Tony collapsed onto the bed and allowed Steve to leave only because he promised to come back with a washcloth and water.

Steve came back and as soon as Tony was somewhat clean, he latched onto Steve, curling around him. Steve just tugged him closer, threading their fingers together and bringing Tony’s hand up to kiss the back of it. It was a sweet, intimate gesture that was so lovely, it made it hard for Tony to breathe, just for a second.

“You said you’re mine Tony, but I’m yours too you know,” Steve murmured.

Tony grinned, incandescently happy, “Oh believe me baby, I know.”

Steve smiled and brushed a gentle kiss over Tony’s lips, “Good.”

They were both exhausted, so it wasn’t long until sleep threatened to claim both of them. As it was, Tony was looking forward to getting his first good night’s sleep in over a month. He had missed this, going to sleep wrapped around Steve. And the best thing was that this time, there was no doubt, no wondering if Steve would still be there when Tony woke up in the morning. There was just a bone-deep certainty that Tony was going to go to sleep with Steve and wake up with him and then do this all over again, maybe for forever. 

\-------

A few hours later, Steve woke up.

It was still dark outside and moonlight slanted through the windows to illuminate Tony’s sleeping face. Steve glanced at the clock. 1:43. AM. Steve grinned.

“Tony,” Steve whispered, running a hand through Tony’s hair and then down his flank, “Wake up.”

“Mmmrph,” Tony said, attempting to burrow further into his pillows.

“Tony,” Steve coaxed and was rewarded when Tony turned to him and slitted open one eye. “It’s after 1,” Steve informed him.

Tony just blinked at him.

“It’s after 1 which means it’s January 1st. Happy New Year’s,” he said, leaning forward to kiss Tony. He then started to draw back, but Tony caught him by the back of the neck and pulled him back forward for another, longer kiss.

“Happy New Year’s,” Tony said, his voice still raspy with sleep and Steve beamed. Tony groaned, “God, we’re such a cliché.”

“I’m okay with it,” Steve said sunnily.

“Of course you are.”

“You know what they say, start the year the way you want to end it.” And Steve knew this was exactly how he wanted to spend the next year: with Tony.

Instead of smiling like he should have, Tony drew back, biting his lip, his eyes wide and worried.

“Tony,” Steve began, concerned, but Tony cut him off.

“What if I screw this up again? God Steve, we were so close to not having this, all because I-” Tony broke off, looking away.

“Hey, Tony, look at me,” Steve said, reaching out to cup Tony’s cheek, “You’re not going to do it again, are you? Shut me out and run just because it’s easier?”

Tony worried his lip. “I don’t want to, but fuck, I’ve never done this before. I have no idea how to make this work. I’m probably going to fuck it up. I mean, I always thought I was going to and then I did. So what if I do it again? I’m a disaster Steve, what are you even doing with me?” Tony’s voice rose in pitch as he spoke, his body going tense and panic clear in every word. Steve hated it. He never wanted to see Tony upset ever again.

“Ok, first things first, you are not allowed to call yourself a disaster. The person I am in love with is many things - such as gorgeous and probably too smart for his own good - but he is not a disaster. And you’re forgetting something pretty important. It took two people to screw us up. I’m not going to let you pretend it was all your fault. I was just as much to blame for what happened between us as you were.”

As Steve talked, he could see Tony gradually calming down, but his frame still carried some tension. And when Steve was done, Tony looked at him and softly asked, “Then how are we going to do this?”

“We talk to each other and we figure it out - you and me, together,” Steve said firmly. He wholeheartedly believed that they could make this work and he was determined to make Tony believe it too. 

After a moment, Tony whispered, “Okay,” and Steve couldn’t help drawing him in for a hug. Tony immediately relaxed, melting into the embrace, and Steve smiled.

“Then there’s also the fact that I’m in love with you. Completely and irrevocably. And there’s basically nothing you could do that would change that, so you don’t have to worry so much.”

Tony laughed softly, “What if I called you saying I’d killed someone?”

“I’m sure you’d have had a good reason, I’d help you hide the body.”

Tony pulled out of the circle of Steve’s arms to grin at him. “Babe,” he said, voice bright and fond, “I love you too,” before leaning into kiss Steve again.

\-------

**About a week later.**

Tony and Steve had spent most of the last week in bed, only leaving to hydrate and to go on a series of truly ridiculous dates involving candlelight, chocolates, live music (unfortunately not a string quartet), and flowers. The only thing that Steve had missed was the moonlit carriage ride, but Tony was willing to let it slide.

Unfortunately, all of their friends had filtered back into Boston over the past few days to begin prepping for the spring semester, so today Steve and Tony were being rudely forced to leave their bubble in order to socialize with other people,

This morning, Tony had woken up to the following text from Pepper.

Pepper Potts [9:42am]:  _ Brunch at Shield at noon. Everyone will be there, including Steve fyi. Don’t worry, will make sure to seat you at opposite ends of table <3  _

Tony had read the text and lurched up, clutching his phone. On the bed next to him, Steve had stirred and murmured, “Tony, what’s wrong?”

“I forgot to tell Pepper,” Tony had answered in a strangled voice. Tony had been so distracted by all the sex that he had forgotten to tell, well, anyone that he and Steve were now together.

Steve had sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. He had then yawned and hooked his chin over Tony’s shoulder, pressing his bare and still sleep-warm body against Tony’s as he read the text for himself. Steve had then stiffened and lunged for his own phone. He had looked down at it and paled. “Oh no.”

“What?” Tony had demanded.

Steve had looked up at him, “Uh, well, I also might have forgotten to tell Bucky about us?”

“You know, we could just not go and stay here forever,” Tony had hopefully suggested but Steve had been resolute, insisting that they had to go. They both had quickly agreed that it probably just made more sense to tell everyone about them together, so they had each just fired off simple affirmative, “I’ll be there” texts to Pepper and Bucky. 

And now it was 12:15 and here they were, standing in front of Shield, trying to work up the courage to go inside. Well, Tony was trying to work up the courage to go inside. Steve was leaning against the side of the building, watching Tony pace with an amused half-smirk on his face that made him look like an asshole. An attractive asshole that Tony wanted to- No. God, now was not the time for those kind of thoughts. After a few minutes of letting Tony freak out, Steve apparently decided it was enough, pushed himself off of the wall, and grabbed Tony, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Stop worrying, it’ll be fine,” Steve said and proceeded to use Tony’s distraction from the kiss to twine their fingers together and tug him inside the bar.

“Steve,” Tony hissed, trying to disentangle their fingers but Steve just tightened his grip on Tony’s hand and towed him towards the table where all of their friends were loudly talking and laughing.

Pepper was the first one to notice them. She took in Tony and Steve standing there  _ together _ and then her wide eyes trailed down to fix on their clasped hands. Her mouth dropped open and she elbowed Natasha, who was sitting next to her. Natasha looked up at them and grinned, her smile sharply self-satisfied.

“Drinks,” muttered Steve, “We’re going to need drinks to get through this.” Steve let go of Tony’s hand and then turned to him, his gaze speculative. And before Tony could stop him, Steve was leaning in and kissing Tony. On the mouth. In front of everyone. Thoroughly.

That definitely got people’s attention. The entire table went silent.

Steve drew back and slipped away towards the bar before Tony could do anything. Tony really had the worst, most attractive boyfriend in the world.

Tony took a deep breath and turned to face the table. Everyone was staring at him. Tony shrugged and grinned. Whatever. Steve was hot as fuck. Everyone should be so lucky to see them make out. 

“I fucking knew it,” Clint exclaimed, turning to Thor, “Come on, pay up.” And just like that, the entire table erupted into conversation, everyone loudly arguing over who had known what and when and multiple people exchanging money. 

A moment later, two mimosas were deposited on the table and then an arm wrapped around Tony’s waist from behind. Tony leaned back into Steve, who asked, his voice tinged with laughter, “How long have they-”

“Oh, a couple of minutes now,” drawled Tony, “No one’s even paused long enough to ask me incredibly inappropriate and invasive questions about our sex life that after a drink or two, I would probably answer.”

Steve muffled his laughter in Tony’s neck. “So what you’re saying is that if we just left, no one would really care.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re the one that said we had to come! ‘We can’t just ignore everyone and keep having sex, Tony.’ Those were your exact words when I suggested skipping this little shindig, you filthy hypocrite.”

Tony could feel Steve’s grin. Steve then dropped a kiss on Tony’s neck, “Sooo, are we leaving?”

“Do we need to pay for those?” Tony asked, gesturing towards the drinks. Tony watched Steve throw down a twenty. Tony raised a brow and turned in Steve’s arms so they were standing face to face. “Wow. Good to know how much you’re willing to shell out in order to have sex with me, babe. Luckily, you’re my favorite, so I’ll agree to the discount.” 

“I am your only,” Steve said with narrowed eyes.

Tony grinned, smoothing hands across Steve’s chest, “Of course. My favorite, my only.” Steve smiled back and leaned in for a kiss, that, in their defense, started chaste, but turned less chaste and more enthusiastic pretty quickly.

Then a thrown napkin hit Tony in the face and Clint yelled, “Get a room, god.”

Tony broke the kiss and pointed at Clint. “Fantastic idea, top notch, really,” he said, pulling a laughing Steve out of Shield and back onto the street.

The winter sunlight glinted off of Steve’s hair and his cheeks were flushed, either from laughter or from the cold. “I love you,” Steve said.

Tony still wasn’t used to hearing it and he didn’t think he would ever get used to it. Every time Steve said it, it still felt like a punch to the gut - but in the best way. Hearing that Steve loved him was like the resonant, clarion call of a bell being rung, the first drop of a roller coaster, and the warm sunshine of a perfect summer day all mixed together.

Before today, part of Tony had been terrified that all of this - him and Steve, Tony being deliriously happy - was only temporary, that Steve was going to back out of this, them when the time came to make their relationship public. But obviously, Steve hadn’t. No. Instead of running or hiding, Steve had kissed him in front of all their friends. Tony had never been happier to have been proven wrong.

“I love you too,” Tony said and Steve’s answering smile was dazzling. “Let’s go home,” Tony said.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! I know this is late, and I am so sorry! If it helps, one of my new year's resolutions is to never again start posting a WIP unless like 60% of it is already written, haha. Anyways, this chapter concludes the main part of the story, but I’ll be posting a very short epilogue (set 5 months in the future at both Steve and Tony’s graduation) in a few days to officially end things! If there’s something you want to see/be addressed in the epilogue, feel free to let me know and I’ll see if I can work it in! As always, thank you so much to everyone that has left comments and kudos! And if you haven't commented/left kudos and feel so inclined, I would really appreciate it!!
> 
> Also, the line “It’s called an easy out clause because it’s supposed to be easy” shamelessly stolen from the movie “Drive Me Crazy.”


	11. Epilogue

**May 20th. Harvard University.**

Tony finally spotted Steve through the throngs of people and ran up to him, throwing himself into Steve’s arms. Steve caught him with a small “oof” and Tony pulled off Steve’s graduation cap and kissed him.

“Congrats, babe. Look at you, all graduated. But thank god that’s over. I didn’t know it was physically possible to make a ceremony that boring. MIT’s commencement was much more interesting,” Tony declared, thinking fondly of his own graduation a few days earlier.

Steve grinned, “Tony, you ended your valedictorian speech with a spontaneous - and not previously approved - pyrotechnics show that almost set the president of the university on fire.”

“Yeah. Interesting,” Tony said. He stood by it. Dr. Reif had barely been singed and Tony’s fireworks had been amazing - like Gandalf-level amazing.

Steve laughed brightly and then from behind them, Tony heard Sarah Rogers exclaim, “Steven Grant Rogers.”

Steve dropped a quick kiss on Tony’s cheek and then stepped away to sweep his mom into a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” Tony heard Sarah murmur, her voice still a little watery. Tony had sat next to Sarah during the ceremony and so knew that there had been quite a few tears already shed. Tony knew how much it meant to Sarah - who had gone to school at night to get her nursing degree while working during the day - to see Steve graduate with honors from one of the best universities in the country.

Tony watched as Steve and Sarah spoke, Steve smiling and Sarah quietly proud, her hands framing his face . A minute later, Bucky and Nat found them. Bucky pulled Steve in for a hug as well, ruffling his hair, “Congratulations, you punk,” and Natasha leaned up to kiss Steve’s cheek. Tony looked at Steve, surrounded by the people that loved him best, and felt a familiar warm glow in his chest.

It felt like happiness.

Tony was used to being happy these days.

The end of this month would mark his and Steve’s five month anniversary. They had been together for five months and things were good. Tony and Steve were good. Actually, Tony and Steve were  _ amazing _ . They were better together than they had ever been apart and Tony knew that things were only going to get better.

In September, Steve would be starting at Harvard Law. Tony hadn’t been able to stop making Legally Blonde jokes for about the entire month after Steve had gotten his acceptance, but it was actually perfect because Tony was going to be staying at MIT to start his graduate coursework in mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, and computer science. And in August, when Steve’s lease was up, they were planning on moving in together. Tony, Steve, and all of Tony’s bots - a true modern American family.

Their intertwined future stretched out before them, bright and hopeful.

And even though the past five months hadn’t been entirely smooth sailing, Tony couldn’t wait. After all, it was expected that there would be some bumps in the road. Tony and Steve were both too new at this and too stubborn not to screw up occasionally.

Their worst fight had come about two months into their relationship. Steve had kept trying to sit down and discuss the future, like what would happen if Steve didn’t get into a Boston-area law school (Tony already had his MIT graduate school acceptance), and Tony had kept avoiding the discussion. Tony had been terrified that Steve was going to suggest breaking up if they ended up at schools in different states. It was what he had done with Peggy after all. But Steve had taken Tony’s refusal to talk as a sign that Tony didn’t care about having a future together.

The ensuing fight had been pretty horrific and had ended with Steve being an  _ idiot  _ (Steve acknowledged this later) and saying, “Well then maybe we just break up now.”

Steve had left and hadn’t come back and Tony hadn’t gone after him. The next two days had been horrible. Tony had been miserable right up until he realized how stupid he was being. He wasn’t fucking doing this again, this thing were they didn’t talk to each other. Steve deserved better than that.  _ Tony  _ deserved better than that.

So Tony had dug out the shoebox he had hidden in the corner of his closet and marched over to Steve’s apartment. He had shoved the box at a stony-faced Steve and Steve had opened it. As he had scanned through the contents, his expression had shifted to confusion.

“Tony, what is this?” he had asked.

What it was was a box full of acceptance letters to graduate engineering programs across the country, everywhere from New York to California. Every state where Steve had applied to law school, in fact.

“I want to be wherever you are, if you want that too,” Tony had said and Steve had pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug and a desperate kiss.

So yes, sometimes they fought (of course they fought), but it never took them long to find their way back to each other.

Surprisingly, Howard Stark hadn’t been one of complications in Steve and Tony’s happily ever after. In a twist that literally no one (and especially not Tony) had seen coming, Howard actually  _ approved  _ of their relationship. When Tony had told Howard about him and Steve officially being together, Howard had insisted on meeting Steve. The meeting had gone astonishingly well and Howard had  _ liked _ Steve. A lot. Like more than Tony had ever seen Howard like anyone. Tony probably would be more bitter about it if he weren’t, you know, head over heels in love with Steve and therefore completely able to understand why everyone else in the world was helplessly charmed by him.

Since then, things between Howard and Tony had actually been better. They weren’t great (they probably would never be great, there was just too much history and too much hurt between them), but they were better.

“I think he loves you,” Steve had said, “but in the way he knows how to love which is not the way you need to be loved.” It was a realization that Tony was slowly coming to grips with - the fact that Howard could love him and still not necessarily be good for him. It helped, having Steve there as a bridge and a buffer.

Tony leaned on Steve and when Steve needed to, Steve also leaned on Tony. 

The leaned on each other and pushed each other and caught each other if they fell.

It was just how they worked.

They loved each other and it wasn’t perfect which was fine, because Tony knew that perfect was overrated. Perfect was boring. Perfect meant having nothing reach for. Perfect meant nothing could get better and every day, hour, minute, and second that Tony was in love with Steve was better than the last.

“Tony, are you coming?” Steve’s voice broke through Tony’s thoughts and Tony looked up to see Steve smiling at him and reaching out for him with one hand.

“Yeah, of course,” Tony said and grabbed Steve’s hand. Steve pulled him close and their group started to walk, heading towards a nearby restaurant where they had lunch reservations. Bucky and Natasha were deep in conversation with Sarah and Steve turned towards him, squeezing his hand.

“Everything good?” he asked.  
Tony didn’t need perfect to make him happy, he had Steve and he wasn’t letting him go anytime soon. Tony smiled, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow! I'm finally done (thank god). Thank you to everyone that has encouraged me along the way, I honestly had a blast writing this! If you've read this far, liked the story, and haven't left kudos and/or a comment, I would really appreciate it if you would! Constructive criticism is also fine so long as it is actually constructive :)
> 
> Regarding what I'm working on next, I have a couple of one-shots half-written that I'm going to finish up and post (a soulmate AU and a sugar daddy AU). Additionally, I'll also be working on a longer Fairytale AU and a long Medieval/High Fantasy AU (snippets available to read [here](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com/post/156136762674/our-love-is-like-a-storybook-story) and [here](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com/post/154403963604/medievalhigh-fantasy-stevetony-fic-intro) if you want).
> 
> Come say hi to my on tumblr if you want @[lelantusposts](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com)! The specific post for this fic is [here](https://lelantusposts.tumblr.com/post/156138180069/you-look-a-lot-like-my-next-boyfriend-by-lelantus) if you want to like/reblog.


End file.
